


self-destruction is such a pretty little thing

by darlingpunk



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Cage Fights, Comfort/Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Prostitution, Sexual Violence, Suicidal Thoughts, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-07-23 01:39:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 43,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7461573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingpunk/pseuds/darlingpunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They say I wouldn't last a day in the real world, I say you wouldn't survive one night in mine," Mox said, grinning darkly at Leakee. Nose bleeding, teeth stained with red and giving a bitter laugh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. place your fucking bets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...I guess this is my dark fic I've been wanting to do.   
> I'm not exactly sure whe're I'm going with this, but here I am.  
> Something of a Moxlea, I guess???  
> Not sure what characters I want to add just yet but we'll see how this fic goes first. Of course I'm going to keep writing "bad boy love" but I just wanted to get the first part of this out first.
> 
> The lyrics and the title of this story along with the chapters are all from Asking Alexandria, small strip pulled out. Some of those songs have almost everything fitted into this story so. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this, and I hope to get lots of positive feedback!

* * *

_what a work of art I've spawned,_

_man am I proud of myself on this one._

_she's such a fucking masterpiece,_

_self-destruction is such a pretty little thing._

* * *

Sweat burned his eyes, hair drenched in it--body glistening, bloody nose and a few cuts here and there. He swung, right fist making contact with a cheek bone, hearing the satisfying crack and his opponent stumbling. Cheers of encouragement with loud yells from around the cage, a few patrons sitting high above the octagonal looking bars forming the cage.

He ducked when a swing came at him, grappling his opponent from the midsection and ramming the other into the bars of the cage. Nails clawing deep into skin on the back, feeling skin tear from under; a loud cry and the shove at the shoulders.

Hands filled with bills, waving frantically about as the ones they cashed in on fought--bloody and on the brink of exhaustion. 

It didn't take much for a few more swings, spits of blood flying about and most likely a tooth, for his opponent to fall to the stained cement of past fights. Wasn't dead, but it was close enough. 

More cheers, screams and bills falling down from above; green confetti of hundred dollar bills, fifties, twenties, and a few ones.

 "Beta Division winner of Rank 8: Jon Moxley."

Collecting his bets, and his opponent's bets that were lost, Mox made his way out of the cage and to the stalls. Pats on the back, a few "good jobs" and little chants. The soreness would creep in soon, blood will dry and cuts will burn a bit.

Letting the grime, the sweat and drying blood wash off his naked body, Jon Moxley stood in the small stall as water rinsed down the soap. Hot, enough to burn the cuts he had on his back and letting his pale skin turn pink slowly.

"Very impressive, Jon. You did so well tonight," came the accent of a voice, footsteps coming closer to Mox's stall as he pushed dirty blond hair away from his eyes.

Regal wasn't fazed by Mox's nudity, had raised this man as his own child at the age of seventeen--a twisted, darker version of Regal. 

A grunt in reply.

"Don't forget you still have  _personal business_ to take care of once you're finished bathing."

Another grunt in reply. Turning the knob, water no longer running and dripping wet. Pale blue eyes shifting, looking up at Regal's same pale blue, scar on his upper lip. Mox remembers that night so well.

"Go away," muttered Mox. 

There was a low snort from Regal, and quietly left Mox to dry up and get dressed. Be presentable. All he wanted to do was sleep for fucking days; he hurt, he was tired. Sighing in frustration, putting on the same sweaty jeans on and dirty boots--never did fights with shirts, learned that the first day in the Omega Division, ripped in shreds.

Stuffing the wad of cash into his jean pocket, Mox walked out of the werehouse; a watercolor sky, pinks and oranges, purples laced with yellows.

He needed a cigarette, or maybe a quick high. Regal hated when Mox came high, an ex-junkie who now despised drugs around him and in his home. Wasn't even a fucking home.

A brothel, Mox's humbly  _warm home._ Girls and younger men lived around, their own rooms for pleasure. Sweet butts was what they were called, and Mox hated that fucking word given to him.

Maybe he'd fall asleep while whoring himself. Again.

Mox walked his route to Regal's fine home of a brothel, whistling a catchy tune as he got a few stares with being that he was shirtless, hair still damp and curled now. He'd shower again anyways, hated smelling like the men who touched and fucked him raw.

He'd rather smell like sweat from a good fight, and blood from a staggering opponent. From a world painted in gold, Mox was just a kick in the teeth; a little weight of the world on his shoulders.

* * *

_"Such a pretty boy you are, look at you..."_

He was so used to hearing those words almost every night, the squeaking of his bed; the low grunts coming from his clamped teeth, the loud huffing of the man on top. They never cared if Mox was in the mood, as long as they got their rush it didn't matter.

Side of his face pressed into his pillow, fingers twisted in sheets that hadn't been washed in a week, thick hands wrapped on slender hips--bruising on other bruises. He still hurt from the fight earlier, god he wanted to fucking sleep so bad.

There was a low moan, the stuttering of hips smashing into the back of his thighs and the slow pull of latex and rawness after. Mox let out a deep breath, sagging into the bed slowly after his hips had been raised off the mattress. 

Mox never remembered a name, always forgot a face. Hated looking into the eyes of married men, or men who sore they were just  _straight and just experiencing something new._

A tossed hundred, the lift of pants and the slip of a belt. Mox was alone in his room now, five minutes to recover till his next client would come through. He turned on his back slowly, hissing low at the stiffness; not even hard, didn't even come this time. Reaching under his pillow for the pack, Mox tapped it against his palm and pulled out one cigarette. 

He lit it quietly and took a long drag, closing his eyes.

Blowing the smoke out and slowly getting up, pulling on some dirty basketball shorts that would hang a little low on his sharp hips. There was a soft knock, and then the door opened quietly.

Mox looked up, cigarette barely hanging on the bottom of his lip. Could see jeans and boots, fitting snug. A shirt on a nice body what Mox could see, tight; bit of a pudge at the stomach. Shoulder length black hair.

"You prefer a particular position?" was Mox's question, looking at the man. Never bothered for names unless role play happened, that was so rare though.

The guy, tan with a half piece of ink design on one shoulder Mox could see, peeking out at the collar, smiled. 

"My intentions tonight are not for getting between your legs," he said, and then pulled out two hundred dollar bills. 

"Then what the hell do ya want? A blowjob?"

The man shook his head, still smiling like he was amused by something. Mox was about to deck this idiot.

"Just your time," he replied. "Even paying a little extra." He slowly made his way across the room and set the bills down on the table next to the other little piles of cash from previous customers. 

"Look man, either I'm going to blow you or you're going to fuck me, I'm not in the goddamn mood to play little mind games here," Mox barked out, head starting to hurt.

The guy sat on the bed quietly and raised his hands in mock surrender. He gave a small chuckle.

"No sexual intercourse, alright? No blow jobs either, I just wanna talk."

" _Talk?!_ Oh this is rich," Mox muttered. "You're a goddamn cop, aren't ya?"

"No, I'm a high school English teacher. And I do writing on the side," the idiot replied in a monotone voice.

Mox burst out laughing, seeing the confused face the dude gave him. Sitting beside the large man, he snorted again, shaking his head. What fucking teacher like this guy sitting beside him would come to a goddamn brothel to just  _talk_?

Watching the guy lay on the bed; back on filthy sheets and looked at Mox with those dark brown eyes. He gave a pat beside him, inviting Mox to lay beside. This idiot was so weird, and Mox cautiously went and laid beside the tan man--curled in at his side, knees pressed to the man's side and stared. 

The guy turned his head and looked at Mox quietly, giving a small smile. He never had someone want to talk to him, not even Regal; this dude was even taking his time to just  _look_ at Mox, something his customers never did, all they wanted was just a good fuck and that was that.

"So let's talk, man."


	2. get off your knees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two new chapters posted from two different stories. WHAT.  
> Kymberlee needs to chill.  
> Nah, anyways...I didn't think this fic would get as much attention as I thought it'd be buuuuuut, oh my god.
> 
> Thank you guys so much! And to a great person on here and Tumblr for encouraging me to do this dark fic, you're so wonderful.

* * *

_welcome to the diary of a man_   _who lost his mind_

_so long ago,_

_welcome to the shell of a man_ _with a heart_

_so black and cold._

* * *

Fingers slipped in and out of blond hair, soft and wavy; felt good, Mox never laid this relax with a man in his bed. Still a weird guy for requesting this thing from Mox--sometimes they'd just grab him and get him face first into the mattress and fuck him dry.

"You married?" Mox asked, looking at the guy with one pale blue eye, bangs covering the other one; hair getting long now, he'd need another cut soon. 

The guy chuckled softly and shook his head, still letting his fingers lazily play with Mox's hair. They never played with his hair, liked to pull it hard enough where Mox would have such a headache. 

"Divorced."

Mox snorted, eyes rolling. How many men walked in and said they were divorced just to keep their minds free of their wives and children? Enough. Sometimes it was believed, sometimes it was just bullshit to Mox.

"Are they rough with you?" the man asked after a short time of silence, a few voices outside the room--a bit of moans and cries in the next, thumping and smashing.

Could barely feel the brush of a fingertip at his cheekbone, so light. No touching was one rule, needed the consent.

"S'not all I do for a livin'," Mox replied. 

"What got you to sell yourself?" came another question, like as if this guy was a reporter or some shit.

"You sure sound like a cop to be just wantin' to  _talk,_ " mumbled Mox. 

Another chuckle, a small twist of blond around a tan finger. "If I'm making you uncomfortable, I can leave."

Mox yawned, aching now. One cut was stinging somewhere, he felt the bruises beginning to throb and head starting to hurt--blues and purples, harsh red on skin.

"You just ask too many questions, is all."

There was a few beats of silence, soft breathing and the loud moans on the next floor. A small laugh, banging on the walls and Mox played with a tiny hole on the man's shirt close to his pectoral.

"I get writer's block alot," the man began explaining, "one minute I'm writing something so catchy and so into whatever it is I'm writing and then the next I'm trying to figure what I'm writing, how to add better ideas and all, y'know?"

Mox shrugged. "Never written a story in my life. S'why I dropped out, too stupid."

"Too stupid or just too lazy? I have a few students who just don't want to do shit in my class." The guy kept watching Mox, giving a smile.

There was a knock on the door; hard and quick. Time was up. Mox sat up quietly and looked at the man, seeing just how relaxed he looked laying there. 

"Your talking time is up, doll," Mox said.

Forgetting he had others lined up for him, more dicks and a little more rawness. More bruising and more aches for tomorrow on a fight. 

Sitting up with a sigh, tired smile from the man. Mox crossed his legs Indian style and watched as the English teacher quietly let his index finger trace over ever so delicately on the splotch of purples and blues on Mox's cheekbone again.

"Leakee," the guy said.

"Huh?" 

"My name; it's Leakee."

Mox gave a slow nod, rolling that name around his tongue and mouthing it softly.

Leakee let his fingers run through Mox's hair one last time and then stood to leave, door opening. A small crowd of men outside, half hard in their pants and looking hungry.

"See you," Leakee murmured and shut the door behind him.

Mox was alone now, finishing his cigarette that was barely lit. He took a long drag and let smoke slip out between his chapped lips.

The door opened a after a minute, bald guy with blown pupils. Mox watched him, taking another drag as the bald guy yanked at his belt in a desperate attempt to undress himself.

"There ain't no rush, doll," Mox said in mock affection, getting up and helping the poor guy. He hummed, kissing the guy's neck slowly and slipping his hand down faded jeans.

Pushed on the bed, flat on back and legs forced open, Mox kept quiet as hands wrapped around his hips once more and latex rubbing the wrong way inside.

He sorta wished the English teacher was laying beside him instead.

* * *

A cold shower sometimes helped, hot showers burned away the handprints on his pale skin; cleansed himself everywhere. Hated seeing marks on his skin from men who got too rough on him. Regal always told him he was asking for it.

Mox tapped a bit of crank onto the side of his hand, dip of his thumb--a tiny carrier enough to hold the powder or crystals, whatever he could get faster.

Taking a quick snort and rubbing his nose, he shook his head quick and rolled his neck--two more wins and he'd be in the Alpha Divisions soon.

Headache gone, new day with a high buzz in him, Mox waited for his name to be announced for this evening's cage fight. Thick iron-wrought bars, cheers and money waving.

 Foot to foot, stretching and enjoying the high and yells. Name announced finally, Mox stepped into the cage when the bars were raised. 

Chants, bills waving in his face and lights bright. Opponent huge, boa shaped arms; deep frown and in the ready.

Mox grinned and winked at his opponent.

The fight was bloody, dirty and beautiful. Bones snapping and raw red scabs busting open. Swelling, pulsing places from each punch.

This guy was from Alpha Division, playing dirty; pulling hair hard enough to get some strands tangled in sweaty hands. Mox couldn't feel his legs, couldn't feel or control a swing to the face.

Slammed repeatedly against an iron bar, back of his head smacking sickeningly with every grapple of push to his belly. Mox howled, squirming with teeth clamped hard. Could of sworn he felt a small crack.

Biting a very meaty part on a shoulder, shouting and encouraging yells--Mox but hard enough to leave a nasty mark, blood in his mouth and spitting with a dark grin. His mouth felt full almost, the high making him glow almost. Felt so  _free._

Mox was hit hard on the side of his head, eyes rolling back and felt the numbness grow bigger--heart pounding loud in his ears, a ringing and shouting turned down slowly in the background. 

_"C'mon Moxley!"_

_"Get up!"_

_"Moxley!"_

Maybe after years of rage and having hands touch him in ways he never thought; maybe finally learning his lesson with a high building and building up inside, an anger and the longing of someone sweet to him--it was time to call it quits.

Mox's mind clouded with a smile of a light tan skinned man who claimed he just wanted to talk, a feather touch to his cheekbone and rich voice that was deep and warm.

_"Let's go Moxley!"_

_"Get up, get up!"_

Falling, falling, falling. And the count of ten started.

*

_A cold heart in a warm soul, angel eyes with a body made from the Devil--sparks a famous smile. There's no perfect words to describe because he's not perfect, he's broken._

_He's a beautiful boy, drenched in gold tainted in black smoke. All alone, but there's someone--they feel like home, sometimes they're heartaches._

_Love will never happen in between, just a small friendship filled with pain and lies; small kisses and breathless moans somewhere along the road._

Leakee sighed and rubbed his tired eyes, pushing his glasses up in the making, messy bun and still smelling like the brothel from the previous night.

Hadn't showered since, wanted to play with soft dirty blond hair. Feel how pale skin would under his hands, how he'd sound under Leakee. He stared at the scribbled writing of his in the progress story--all about pale blues and sand hair.

Interested in this prostitute, knew a relationship would never ignite. But it couldn't help to just talk a little, get to know this wild kid that used his body to other dirty men for pleasure.

_He's surrounded by sin, and maybe he's suffocating just a little._


	3. i am corruption, i am sin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just as excited as you guys are about this fic, and I really wanna focus on this one more right now and give "bad boy love" some time. Ya know.
> 
> You guysss, I'm so glad ya'll are liking this fic! Thank you, thank you for your kind words of encouragement. Means so much.  
> Also I think this one chapter is a little longer but eh, what the hell.
> 
> And ALSO, this pair that will show up in this chapter...I've never written about them but I have seen a few fics of these two. So like, this was my first time writing them and their sexual behavior. And I think I did good. (And I'm not talking about Moxlea.)

* * *

_save yourself for a man with a conscience,_

_i fight to find myself this time._

_save yourself for a man that isn't me,_

_i spend my days looking through pages trying_

_to find a way to get away from me._

* * *

A slap to the face, another sting.

His head was still clouded, really couldn't feel that smack to the side of his head; more numb. He swayed on the bucket he sat on, cheers muffled and seeing shiny shoes in his blurry vision. 

"You almost made me lose my bets,  _Jon!_ "

Another slap, tried shoving Regal away. Things were still spinning, the high hadn't cleared. Mumbling, words couldn't be formed--cotton mouth wasn't fun, needed to drink something.

" _Jonathan,_ " came Regal's accented voice again. Sounded so authoritative; back to being a teen, when his outbursts got him in trouble and Regal would lock him up in his room.

Mox gave a grunt in reply, like always.

Wasn't sure if the side of his head was bleeding or not, felt wet somewhat. Maybe it was the sweat, hair still drenched in it--pressed to his neck and face. Eyes stung.

"Bloody high  _again?_ " Regal questioned, thumb and fingers pressing into each sweaty cheek, squeezing too hard. Mox's jaw began to hurt. 

He replied with a lazy grin, cheeks puffed and lips pushed out. He really needed a fucking nap. 

*

" _Ew,_ he smells!" Mox shot a dirty look at one of the twins; face twisted in disgust, sitting on the leather sofa--entrance of Regal's home turned into a lobby.

She scoffed, dark red lipstick lips turned in a frown.

" _Nicole,_ " Regal warned. 

The high was gone now, faded out. Head throbbed, Mox was now feeling the hit to the head, the slap from Regal and the soreness. Body aching, bruised and cut, Mox felt dragged. He was slumped on one arm chair, hair straw-like from the dried sweat.

"Go take a shower, Jon."

" _Please do,_ " the twin mumbled. Dressed in such revealing clothes, thick hair in wild curls; giving another disgusted look.

Really doesn't remember if he walked back here, or if Regal carried him. No, Regal wouldn't go to those extremes--he didn't care  _that_ much.

Mox leaned over quick and gave a peck on the twin's cheek. She shrieked. "Regal he touched me! Ew ew ew! He's dirty!"

Grinning and walked with a slow swagger upstairs to his room, Mox began undoing his pants on his way; unbuckling his belt, kicking his boots off. Had dried blood on his jeans and in some places on his body--bruised and scarred.

A real work of art.

Hot shower, steam built up and smelling clean. Red skin, raw with harsh scrubbing; new cuts, water swirling down the drain in red and brown. Mox pushed back his hair, towel wrapped around slim hips and made his way to his room.

Still had time for that fucking nap. Air dry, towed dried hair; Mox tossed his towel in a pile of clothes and laid in bed. Belly down, bare ass and no care--he rubbed his face into the unwashed sheets with week old sweat and dried come in different spots from different positions.

He sighed. Maybe a tan man with a sunshine smile will visit him tonight. Wasn't pining on the guy, Mox didn't do pining. 

*

  _He makes his own mistakes, a lesson never learned in every one made. No religion could save his soul filled with black smoke._

_Doesn't want to be saved, doesn't want to be prayed for. So used to the neglect, the bruises of different hands._

_Something used, and something so beautiful--almost pure. Pale skin marked in scars; splotches of purples and blues, hints of yellows._

_His mind is lost, damaged in ways it probably will never be cured. Won't ever be pieced back together, so many cracks in a single body of a man._

_The Devil has had his way with him too many times._

Leakee set his pen aside, smeared ink on paper and skin--hushed whispers and light giggles. Eyes raised and long dark lashes, there was silence again. It'd be nice for four'o clock to come through.

"Assignments are due tomorrow, I suggest you guys work a little harder. Because I can already hear the bitching from each and every one of you," he said, sitting back in a black leather chair, hair pulled in a neat bun. A few strands falling from how short his hair was.

One more month left and summer would be here.

Didn't have many friends, never liked being in a crowd. Kept more at home with frozen dinners and cheesy horror films, hadn't dated in a long ass time. A few lays here and there, but nothing ever serious happened. 

The girls here didn't hide their wet crushes on him, a few boys came around; girls pulled their shirts down low enough to show barely formed cleavage, boys interested tried staying longer after hours. 

Leakee found no interest in tight, short skirts or thin framed muscle; he currently had a sweet mouth with a body decorated in scars and bruises in his mind--dirty blond and pale blue eyes.

* * *

Four hours of fucking bliss from the nap, a small knock on the door. Cigarette between his lips, walking out from the small bathroom with a shitty shower head that barely pushed water out--hallway bathroom was so much better for showers--Mox stood at the doorway, bedroom door opening.

Hair of rust, thick beard and dark eyes. A small smile showed on the customer, and Mox blew out smoke with a smile of his own.

"Holy shit, you're back."

Mox took another drag and smashed the end of his cigarette into a unkempt tray with other buttes and half smoked cigarettes; walked his naked self to his favorite customer, one that treated him way better than most--sweet and friendly, sometimes shy.

"I'm back, and you're naked." Sami Zayn shut the door behind him, pulling out crumpled bills.

History with this friendly guy, a regular almost. Mox knew this one had a girl somewhere; never really treated her like a girlfriend, came around here more than seeing a pretty face. But that was all staged, Sami never got serious with girls; had a weird crush with the grumpy doughnut shop owner a block away.

"How was the vacation, man?" Mox asked, long skilled fingers unbuckling Sami's belt; toothy grin, smelling wiffs of AXE here and there. 

"Nice. Hot, I sweated so much," answered Sami. The kissing started, heated and sloppy. Hands on sharp hips, blunt nails digging into the meaty part of Mox's ass; jeans shoved down and shirt pulled up and off.

Both hard, bed giving a small squeak when two bodies threw down on the worn mattress. The kisses never were gentle, never slow--Sami grinded low on Mox, hot skin and the form of precome. Mox pulled the other man closer to him, soft sighs and beard burn on his neck.

"I fucking needed  _this,_ " Sami whispered, biting on skin and licking; kissing in more places and Mox spreading his legs more around Sami. 

A breathless laugh. Mox hated the gentle shit, never was into lovemaking; so used to rough fucking, raw skin and bed shaking. Nails scratching down pale skin, pulling closer to get in deeper--the sound of skin smacking in the room, the only noise with heavy breathing. 

Quiet moans, light sheen of sweat on bare chests and slick on the inside grooves of thighs, hair sticking to his face again. Mox pushed his hair back, Sami's face buried in the crook of Mox's neck; groaning and lifted the blond's hips a little more from the creaking mattress.

It felt good, Mox always trusted Sami. Only rough for roleplay, but not entirely gentle either--but this right here, Sami needed to get off. It was what Mox was here for.

*

"I can give you a good time," she said, hands with perfectly manicured nails on his tan skin; beautiful face and devilish eyes. But he wasn't here for  _her._

A good fuck would be nice, though a wonderful chat would be nicer. He stood in the lobby with other men, sitting around and in need. It was funny to him, seeing how these men were just hungry.

Leakee gave a small smile. "Thanks, but I already have someone in mind..."

She gave a pout, red lipstick lips and straight thick hair.

It had been a three weeks since the last time he had came here, now it was his second time. Just needed a nice talk, to relax a bit in that dirty bed and touch that soft hair of blond. School was a drag, going to sleep late from grading papers of lazy students who were just as restless as him.

"Oh?" she questioned, hands still rubbing thick forearms. 

"Him, actually." Leakee pointed to a slouched form against the wall. Taking long drags of a cigarette, sunglasses on even though he was inside the brothel--and seeing a few of the workers make faces of disgust as he blew smoke.

"But he's  _dirty,_ " she said, face twisted in a mix of horror and surprise. "And he smells." She pulled away, arms crossed and glaring.

"He smells fine," Leakee replied, smiling sweetly and made his way to dirty blond and chain smoking. 

Could see a hue of purple around his temple, sunglasses covering more than he could see. A cut on his bottom lip, more purple around his nose and a little swollen. Whatever the hell this guy did on the side with the whoring, Leakee was intrigued to know.

"Wondered if I can have another session with you," Leakee quietly said, seeing Mox look up and gave a crooked smile with dimples. 

"Been wonderin' when you'd start missin' me."


	4. not the american average

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...I have this story set up to how I want it to go. So ideas have been made, and updates will be somewhat daily. And I guess chapters will be longer each time???  
> *little spoiler* I promise these two will eventually get their time, and I mean like, they'll be interacting more and more.
> 
> So this whole chapter was inspired by the song Not The American Average by Asking Alexandria (where I got the title from) and it's such an old song, oh my god. But still, I wanted to go with that song for this chapter.  
> Thanks guys, again for enjoying this fic. Enjoy this one ~

* * *

_i was the end of her,_

_in her head, in control._

_just like before i should've told you again,_

_that i'm so sorry._

* * *

His bed still smelled of rich cologne--each whiff different--with sex mixed and dried spots. Sheets were still unkempt; unwashed and rumpled, but still comfortable to lay in.

Hands rested on a soft stomach, fingers laced together with another body curled beside him, arms folded against his own chest. Knees pressed to his side just like the first time they had spoken. 

"We gon' talk about our shitty days, or you gon' ask more about my dream jobs?"

A small chuckle, more breathless with dark brown eyes staring up at the ceiling. Few strands of hair loose about from that messy bun.

The sunglasses were off now, had taken them off once in the room. One bloodshot eye, blue iris bright compared to how harsh the red was. More blues, more purples. 

Leakee unfolded his hands from his stomach, that index finger coming to ever so delicately trace the weird pattern on Mox's eye of a bruise. Flinching his head back a little, Mox lightly swatted the tan hand away.

"They don't hit me, Regal doesn't allow that shit," Mox explained. Knew there was a question needing to be answered.

Body began to ache, had won his last Beta Division match. Officially now in the Alpha Divisions; more rough and more dirty--more blood, more aches, another added collection of scars and more bruises.

An eyebrow raised, dark eyes still looking at the nasty bruise and the slight swollen part of his nose. 

"May I?" A lifted hand, fingers close to his hair. Maybe it'd soothe his headache, he felt so sore; night was just beginning for Mox. 

Silent nod and fingers gently coming through his unwashed hair. Too tired to bathe after the cage fight, took a small nap. Still wasn't used to this, this guy was still odd.  _Leakee._ The hell kinda name was that, and Mox wonderded; foreign on his tongue.

Fingers were soft, soothing touches and light scratches to his scalp. Mox yawned, felt himself relaxed with the quietness of the room. A bit of moans and high whines came from other rooms, but that didn't bother Mox.

Soft breathing and the gentle caresses kept on, and eventually they had slowed, then simply stilled in his hair. Mox didn't bother to question, so lax in the bed beside Leakee--mind foggy all over again. A bit of his aches died down, just a light throb in the back of his head from smacking a iron bar again.

_"Jonathan!"_ There was knocking in the background, it kept getting louder.  _Oh fuck, they had fallen asleep._

Drool on his arm, a wet spot in the sheets; a hand still in his hair, limp fingers. The loud knocks didn't help his headache, throbbing and soreness crept in through his whole body. Didn't want to move, but Regal would kick the door down.

Stirring awake with a soft groan, an aching body. Squinting, dry mouth; hand rubbing over his face. The loud knocks didn't falter, Leakee hadn't even woken or twitched.

Mox gave a small shove to the larger man. "Wake up," he muttered. Rolled off the bed as a small sigh came from Leakee, a low stretch of a groan. Crooked smirk, Mox made his way to the door and opened it.

All the doors locked from the outside, more privacy. 

Pale blue stared at him, hard and wild. " _Bloody hell!_ Jonathan I kept kno--"

"Fell asleep," interrupted Mox, rubbing his face again. Shirtless with faded ripped jeans hanging dangerously low on thin hips, a thin happy trail shown.

"With your customer?" Regal questioned, eyes flickering to the background; Leakee now sitting up, pulling out a few crumpled bills with a dazed face.

Giving a small smirk, arms crossed over a thick scar--smoothed on his chest. Wild blond hair in his face, twinkling blue eyes watching Regal.

"Be out in a sec, man." Shut the door before Regal could protest, hearing the click of the lock. Sighing and pushing greasy hair out of his face, he looked at Leakee. 

Brown eyes watched him closely, black hair tie threatening to fall from short wavy brown locks. Ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of Leakee's full lips. Mox made his way slowly to Leakee, straddling over strong thighs with the larger man sitting back on his hands, still watching.

"You sure you just wanna keep talkin'? Pretty good with my mouth," he muttered, Mox letting his lips ghost over tanned skin; column of a neck, down to collarbones--shirt collar pulled down enough--small puffs of breath.

A quiet hum with Mox giving just a slight push of his hips. "Get told I have a sweet ass," Mox added. "Don't gotta pay extra, first round is on the house."

Leakee gave a small chuckle, a hand going around a pale, scarred wrist. Brown gaze locked with pale blue, heated and liquid--stopped kissing, didn't grind anymore. Who the hell was this guy, really? Any man would kill to be in Leakee's position right now!

"This isn't the time or place," Leakee whispered. He gave such a feather kiss to Mox's chin.

*

Written with sloppy cursive letters, coffee stains of late nights:

_Lips of poison, a work of art--scars and more bruises. Thighs meant to be grazed, honey sweet skin._

_He sins differently than me._

Frowning, he crumpled the paper. Writer's block was back, eyes tired again and glasses perched on the crown of his head. He smiled lightly at the thought from the previous night, sinful lips on his neck and delicious move of hips.

Face covered with both hands, groaning into them.

_I wanna take him home, he's the definition of wrong from right; nothing like the faces I've ever known..._

* * *

Bloody knuckles and sweaty bodies, moving like a slow dance; eyes narrowed. Hair pulled, low growls and slammed to the concrete. Roaring cheers, more of a crowd. Alpha Divisions fought tI'll the last man stood--rough and bloody.

Mox gave a punch to the opponent from Beta Division, jaw cracking. Getting the upper hand, stumbling and sitting on a lower half; Mox punched, sweaty fingers tangled in dark hair, knuckles meeting a nose.

So much blood, cheers so loud. Money in his face. Punches got slow, red on his hands--red on the concrete. There wasn't a face anymore, smeared in crimson.

"Alpha Division winner of Rank 1: Jon Moxley."

Pulled off the crumpled form, knew he wasn't dead.  _Yet._

Collected his bets, thick wads now smeared with blood. Blond hair streaked with it, a few cuts on his face and dripping with sweat. Upper torso slicked. Mox made his way silently to the shower stalls, same pats to the back and wild encouragements. 

Stripped and hot water running, brown and red, soap mixed with grime. He sighed and washed his hair as best as could, shoulder blades in pain and head beginning to hurt some more. Washed his body here and there, groaning in satisfaction. 

Maybe a fucking nap would get him energetic for tonight again. Still pissed at that fucking English teacher for leaving him with a goddamn hard dick. Didn't even get off with the next customer, went raw. 

Mox looked around with half lidded eyes, every other opponent was either in their cages for the next fight or gone for the night. No one else came down here except Regal. Sighing, hand slipping down slowly to his dick; gave a few tugs.

Biting his bottom lip, cut and a little swollen--Mox let his hand stroke himself over, low moan. Felt good, knew how he liked it, how he wanted it. Rough hands always got him, stroked too hard or too fast. Never took their time. Mox hated that.

Slippery, soapy and gave small thrusts into his hand. Forehead pressed to the tiled wall, mouth slack and breathless. Gave a small twist of his wrist, gentle squeeze; the heat building at the low part of his stomach. Hair plastered to his face, looked down to just watch himself be pleasure by his own hand.

How would Leakee touch him? Gentle with sweet words, or be rough like  _them?_ Would he take him hard and keep his face pressed into the mattress, fucked raw till he ached?

Mox gave a high whine, gasping as he came. A warm smile and dark hair came to his mind, sleepy face and strong thighs. Stroked through his orgasm, shaking; own thighs quivering, a glow coming on. 

 He was such poison.

*

Three days after Leakee came to visit, Sami was back.

Sheets were finally washed, new scents. New stains, same positions. He needed to be roughed up a bit, fighting marks didn't ease the itch. Rough, quick thrusts from behind; the sound of skin slapping on skin. Blunt nails in skin, pulling and heavy breathing.

Mox pulled at rust hair, arm twisted back and hissing with each hit. Bites on bruises already there, clothes thrown around and bills piled high on a nightstand with fresh buttes of cigarettes smoked out.

" _Harder,_ " Mox growled, pulling on Sami's hair more. "C'mon man!"

"Don't..." a short pause of breath, chest slicked with sweat and dark hair plastered, "don't call me man when I'm literally fucking the hell outta you."

A low groan of a laugh, pushing back to hips. A harsh bite to the neck, nasty bruise would show up the next day. Body hurt more than it has been, but he needed more pain. 

The bed squeaked loud underneath the two, framed legs giving short hits to the wall. Breathless groan, the warmth and rawness after; Mox slumped under Sami. 

The fucking was good, still didn't come. Hardly even hard--oh well. Pulled out, body off of his own; he turned over onto his back with a small grunt and reached for his pack. Cigarette between his lips and silently lit it.

Mox took a long drag, let thick smoke out and watched Sami look for his clothes. Another drag, more smoke. Pants slipped on and wrinkled shirt, Sami gave a little smile to Mox. Set some bills down.

"Later."

Mox waved Sami off. Door clicked shut, last customer for this night; reached in his ripped jeans for the small carrier. Sat up, legs open and still bare assed. Mox tipped some powder on the crook of his wrist, leaned down and shot up. Snorted enough, the burn building up.

Eyes rolled back, the hit stronger. The pain started wearing off, began feeling numb and mind calm. Mox fell back on the bed, carrier fallen to the side. He glowed, the buzz through his veins wild and things slow.

A good night's sleep, no aches with a throbbing head. Less sore tomorrow. Mox sighed with eyes still shut--if he didn't wake up the next day, how wonderful that'd be.

Oh fucking hell, Leakee would never fuck a whore like him.


	5. my lips, your poison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looky looky!   
> It's not as long, but hey I tried. But it still makes me happy that you guys are liking this story. ♡  
> I'm trying out these new pairs, so like bear with me on seeing them more eventually. And yeah...  
> Well, enjoy ~

* * *

_without a care if a heart gets broken,_

_you'll all learn in the end_

_that there's a better way._

_baby, move in closer, you couldn't hurt me_

_if you tried._

* * *

"...I hope he runs out of money the next time he's rolling in bed with you, and then he'd have to sell his ass to dirty men like you."

Mox blinked behind shades, greasy hair wild and wavy; faded ripped jeans, black shirt with a weird smiley face. Face too bruised up, sore body and a high fading. Smell of fresh pastries and coffee, heavily added cinnamon with sugar on some sweet bread--glazed doughnuts, sprinkles and chocolate, white drizzled and coconut shavings.

"Jesus Christ, just wanted some fuckin' doughnuts and coffee, man." First time an early riser, a good mood set. Wanted some food, Mox set out down to the bakery a block away from the brothel.

The grumpy doughnut shop owner was already scowling when Mox walked in; bell ringing at the entrance. Warm smells and strong coffee--preferred iced. Had known this one for awhile now; an ex of Sami's, gruff and a bear of a man.

A roll of eyes, thick index finger smashing the buttons from the cash register; gum smacking from Mox. Amused by the jealously--an on and off relationship, knew where Sami would go. Knew who Sami would sleep with. 

"I also hope you get your ass beaten... _again,_ " the owner seethed. 

Mox snorted. "Have a good day, Kev." Left a tip with a smirk, a glare in reply. Took his small bag of warm pastries, left the shop and lit a cigarette outside.

Warm day, wispy clouds; too warm for a leather jacket. An off day for fighting, rest his body and let blues and purples of bruises fade to yellow. He stuffed his face with a cinnamon twist on the way back to the brothel, making his way up large stairs.

Much cooler inside, a few customers early for their appointments, sucking his fingers that had sugary sweetness to them. Mouth popped with each suck.

_"Gross,"_ came a voice. Looking up to see the twin sitting comfortably close to her customer on the leather sofa, hand on a thigh; thick hair straight today, light makeup. "You eat like a child."

Roll of eyes and a wave of a hand; left up stairs to his room to at least shower and nap for a bit. Needed another high, body kept fucking aching. A sigh, the shrug of a jacket along with the toss of his bag of doughnuts on the bed. Kicked his boots off quietly, slipped his shirt off.

Half naked walking down the hall, passing a few clients. Girls on girls, guys on guys; mixed, didn't matter. Pleasure was pleasure. Door to the hallway bathroom was shut, hearing soft moans and little cries. Laughter. 

Mox sighed and banged on the door with his fist, towel around his neck. "Hey, c'mon. Fun is over," he called.

Shower cut off, the pleasureable noises quieted and the soft murmuring of talk. The slap of skin and a giggle followed. Door opened to see Tyler walk out, hair wet and slicked back with body glistened of water, towel around his waist. Fandango followed, just as wet with tight towel secured around his waist as well.

Both smirked. "Could've joined," Fandango said, voice low and seductive. 

"Wouldn't be able to handle us," Tyler answered. Bleach blond grabbed at the taller's hand and led him away; groping and whispering dirty little things to one another.

Watched the two disappeared into their shared room, never could understand how a customer would tolerate the both of them. So open, so  _sickening in love._

_*_

A snort, the rub to his nose and the dreamy sigh. The rush took over quick, the soreness and throbbing to his head eased, laying back slowly on the bed and closed his eyes. Felt so mushy, relaxed and seemed to be floating. Mox laid there, rough hands slowly mapping out his body; fingers touching here and there.

High and sated, let his mind run. Lazy strokes to himself, small whine; sucked on two of his fingers, wet enough to enter him at the same time. Had worse, done worse. They were never gentle to him, always took the right time to prep himself before anyone could hurt him.

Always liked being throughly fucked himself before anyone else touched him wrongly. Wondered how the English teacher would touch him, how he'd be fucked. Mox gave a low moan, arching off the bed a bit as he got deeper, fingers curled in himself, still stroking. 

Be nice, be bent over  _his_ desk and fucked there. Leave a mess, let him remember it everyday of his school life.

God he was such a mess.

_*_

Crumpled bills stuffed deep into jean pockets, dark blue and a simple shirt; light grey and loose this time. Hair wasn't tied back tonight, made his way into the brothel. Scattered around the lobby area, some coming down the stairs; same girl had her eyes on him, one he had rejected for blond and blue.

"Upstairs, if that's who you're looking for," she said, pouting lips and bringing her attention back to her client for the night. Gave a small nod, light smile.

Leakee walked up the stairs, passing a few of girls with men's arms wrapped tightly around tiny waists. Was about to knock on the door he memorized, stopping when it opened. Spiffy guy came out, adjusting his pants--smug and giving a nod to Leakee. 

The bigger man walked into the room, blond in bed--sprawled out naked with a cigarette--with a dopey grin. Sheets half fallen from the bed, a few stains. How many days had passed since? Too many grading papers, too many projects being assigned, too many teacher meetings. Late nights, and early mornings. 

Shutting the door behind him, pulling out folded bills; stained with a funny smell. Small ashtray on the night stand; no cigarette buttes, bits of white powder residue instead. Clothes scattered around the floor, room smelling of cigarette smoke and warm sex.

"You wan' talk about some sports?" Mox asked, a slur in his voice, eyes half lidded. Somewhat hard, long drags from the cancer stick.

Shifting from one foot to the other, running a hand through his hair. Leakee chewed the inside of his cheek.

"You still up on that offer? The one about the first round on the house?"

Mox sat up, taking a long drag; smashing the end on the table and stood. Fit, lithe body--naked and scarred--light hair down south, a happy trail. Light chest hair, sharp hips and a scar with a different story for later. Standing, back almost hunched as he looked at Leakee with shaggy blond hair.

"Whatcha wantin'?"

* * *

It had been quite awhile.

Hadn't been touched, hadn't been laid. School and students, papers and coffee for late nights; long naps and boring conferences. Propped against the bed frame, relaxed and excited. Stomach stirring, half hard already; bills piled beside the ashtray of crank. Wasn't allowed to touch unless given the consent, could only kiss back. 

Sinful lips on his skin, soft bites. Shirt off, tan skin and ink. Took his time, Leakee watched. A hand slipped down to stroke him through the material, thickness pressed to the zipper opening uncomfortably. Kissed his chest, down to his stomach with more soft bites; light breath going further, hot air on the trail of hair. 

Mox undid Leakee's jeans, fingers curled into the straps and yanked. Black briefs, a nice swell of an outline. Licked his way up to Leakee's neck again, pulse point and jawline. 

Hand slipped inside his boxers, starting a pace of stroking. 

 Leakee's breath hitched, feeling a deep warmth start in his stomach, down to his dick. He let his head fall back on the iron frame, eyes closing slowly. Wet tongue giving a small lick, a low groan escaping Leakee's lips. A simple request, a grand sensation in return. The bigger man slowly slipped his fingers into Mox's hair, petting--encouragements with gentle playing, tangled in sandy hair.

Mox licked a bulging vein on Leakee's dick; swollen and beautiful, not so thick like ones Mox has seen plenty of times--where pain never stopped and pleasure never came. Leakee was the right size. Tip of his tongue flicked the slit from the head, saltiness taste almost. Wanted to get him fully wet, fully begging maybe.

Soft groans and small sighs, gentle tugs on hair and light scratches on his scalp. Mox licked down to soft hair, head tilted to the side; tongue curling around each piece of hot skin he could lick and nip on, one hand sliding it's way up to Leakee's upper torso.

" _Fuck,_ " Leakee hissed.

Mox pulled back the flaps of Leakee's open jeans, stroking slowly. Sucked on the very red and wetness of the head, blue eyes flicking up to watch Leakee. Eyes still closed, mouth slacked and giving soft grunts. Grinning around a mouthful of dick, Mox gave a small hum.

It was nice to take his time and not rush, to not be forced down hard and almost gag. Nice to give the pleasure in such a marvelous way to this man who seemed oh so into it. Simple blowjob, spectacular reaction. 

Jaw slowly relaxing, swallowed down the larger man, head bobbing over on Leakee's dick. No gagging, no rush.

Fingers curled in a little tighter in Mox's hair, gasping softly and moaning. Oh this was good, the heat building for Leakee. The hum around his dick, the wet noises of sucking; the hand on his chest, nails digging into skin to mark.

"Oh... _oh._ " 

Amazing how Mox broke this man now, imagined how much broken he'd look if he fucked himself on Leakee. How loud would he be? How rough could he get? Did he enjoy showing possessive behavior?

Mox kept sucking--slurping noises and light squeezes. Hand wet, a line of spit from tip to lips; light grazes of his teeth of the sensitive head of Leakee's leaking dick. Brown eyes now met with blue, half lidded now and breathing heavy.

Mox wanted to laugh. Heard the low groan and the warm liquid come in thick spurts inside his mouth. Took every drop, swallowed some as he kept sucking. Quite soft, Mox let go slowly with a bit of come still in his mouth.

Tongue rolled around in it, warm and gooey. 

"C'mere," breathed Leakee. Made his way up the tan skinned man, straddling him slowly. Kissed him quite sloppy, heavy breaths and come sharing.

Was a little disgusting like Mox, and he liked it. Didn't complain, tongues sliding together, warm thickness and the hands on his hips. Lips to his neck again, soft sighs. Never let the others touch him like this, never enjoyed such a session. Mox felt himself hard, pressed to Leakee's stomach, forgetting about being bare assed.

Both swallowed their share of Leakee's come, giving light kisses after every heavy breath. Fingers shook, a hand wrapped slowly around Mox's hardening dick. Tensed at the soft touch down there, gentle strokes and nips to his neck and chin.

"My turn to take care of you, " Leakee whispered. 


	6. breathless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sigh. Things are going to get real good now, and I hope you guys love it...just don't hate me.  
> Hope you enjoy this chapter, swear we're getting somewhere!  
> Thank you guys for the love.
> 
> Let's be friends: dancinglucifer.tumblr.com

* * *

_every mistake i've made leaves a scar_

_that burns every day._

_yet still i carry on, without regret,_

_without remorse, i'm gone._

_you're better off to walk away,_

_i am corruption, i am sin._

* * *

It started with a month; wasn't a relationship, more of a friendship, friendships didn't have blowjobs or handjobs--less talk, more make outs. Little dates; go a few days without seeing one another, school was out--summer came in with dry heat, sweaty skin and red faces with more tans. Didn't change the lifestyle, fucked raw every night; took on bloody beatings.

Same faces, still couldn't remember a name.

Rank 5; higher bets, bigger opponents. Headaches and highs, bruises and open cuts, body aches with rough fucking. Chain smoking more than usual, didn't mind. 

The cheers were wild this evening, shouting and cage smashing. Loud hits, healing skin ripping open. A bloody face with bloody knuckles--Mox gave two right punches on the same area, back of the head smacking into iron bars, following behind quick. 

Swollen eye, wraps from his hands beginning to untie and knuckles more exposed. Raw skin, harsh red and skin threatening to rip more. Blunt nails into sweaty skin, grappling around. A nasty hit to the jaw, Mox staggering back with drenched hair in his eyes; chest heaving. Opponent was known to give a killing blow, Mox desperately keeping away from death right now. 

Hard punch made him bite the side of his tongue, mouth filling with blood and spit. He grinned, teeth stained with vivid red; tongue sticking out, more blood. Opponent came at him and gave a harsh bite to the neck--staining dark skin and leaving a nasty mark.

Mox tackled the larger man, straddling a large torso and punched. Punched till his hand ached, wrist throbbing; sickening cracks and so much blood, growling. Pulled off eventually, breathing heavy and sweat dripping.

"Alpha Division winner of Rank 5: Jon Moxley."

*

Different changes were coming around the brothel. More exquisite--escorting with the high riches, more pay; more touching--Mox hated it. Hated big charities, hated playing dress up, hated being bossed around. Hate hate hate.

Grand new opening Regal had requested, soon to come.  New faces came and went, some old faces; Mox never cared, didn't bother to question who fucked him, only knew two faces and two names of his customers. Came by often.

"I still don't understand what he  _sees in you,_ " the twin said, arms crossed, a mean look to her. 

"My good looks," replied Mox, not giving her the attention. Unwrapped bloody tape from his hands, shirtless with dried blood--sunglasses on to cover the swollen eye. "Y'know...I like your sister more, she's cool and  _nice._ "

Kitchen sink with blood and stained tape, the twin perched beside him with a disgusted look on her face; watching and trying to peak a look at red skin with blues and purples.

"But you're dirty and you  _smell,_ " she added, playing with her hair and fixing her bra. So used to this shit; used to the girls doing  _girl things_ around him or the other men that worked here. Raised like a family with Regal, had to look out for each other. Mox never had a family. 

"Seems to think I smell great. Sucked my dick already."

A gag, a horrified look; tongue sticking out and red lips open wide. 

Mox laughed, a fully belly laugh--using teeth to rip the rest of the tape off. Bloody knuckles, blotches of blues starting to show. Bits of skin loose, side of his face throbbing. Needed a high, needed a fucking nap again. Needed some pleasureable pain, a good fuck. 

Flexed his fingers, wincing. "He ain't mine," Mox said quietly, finally looking at the twin. "Take 'im if ya want, I'm nothin' more than a whore to him."

Left without another word, up to his room and stripped. Got a pinch of white; laid it out silently. Rolled one of his hundreds and snorted quick. Rubbing his nose, things got slow and quiet. Sighing and laid back in his bed, turned over on his belly, buzzing; skin glowing and feeling the aches leave slowly.

_Nothin' more than a whore to him..._

*

"Be nice to see you, uce."

Family calls were rare; school work took over, late grading. Something came up, short calls of hellos and how life was. Simple things, small talk. Long way from home.

"Family time, you know? Haven't had that."

Leakee stared at messy writing.  _He's a monster; a man like him couldn't live this way._ Sighing over the line, gave a nod even though no one saw.

"Yeah, I'd like to visit. I'll start looking," answered Leakee.

Messy bun, same shirt from three days ago. Apartment starting to smell of rotten food; dirty clothes scattered about. Forgot which pile was clean. Scratched his head, thinking of soft sands and clear water; laughter and food, so much food. Family. 

"Seeing anyone? You should bring them down if you are, uce. It's been awhile."

Didn't have time to  _date._ Only saw blond and blue eyes twice a week; blowjobs and handjobs, heavy make outs and light naps. Would that count as a date? Bring a hooker to a wedding, let his family meet  _him._ They weren't a thing; made sure of it. Didn't hurt to play around, right?

 "Sorta," Leakee answered. "Not an official thing, but you know. Uh, I'll see if he wants to tag along."

" _He?_ Oh, uce you gotta bring him then!" A small chuckle. They never felt disappointed with his life choices, heart accepting. "Good to hear you're at least seeing  _someone._ " Let him lived his life how he wanted, so supportive. 

Said their goodbyes, hung up; went back to writing. Open takeout boxes beside him, quick bites of different foods--wrote a few more, sat back and sighed. Checked the time on his phone, wasn't so late for a little visit with dimples and bruises.

* * *

Dripping wet and towel wrapped around slim hips, hair wasn't entirely dry. Cold droplets dripped on to skin, seriously needed a haircut. Passed a few walking around; mingling somewhat.

Quietly walked down the hallway to his own room; cracked open door. Opened it to see a sunshine of a smile, hair loose once more--sitting on his bed and looking at him with bright brown eyes. Bed not smelling of weird smells, actually clean.

"Well, well, well." Mox smirked, dimples showing. Took the towel off and tossed it somewhere in the room. Made sure the door was closed right. Walked his naked self to Leakee, straddling him slowly and body still glistening a little from the shower. 

The kiss was filthy, quick and hot. Tongues touching, licking and teeth biting on lips, hands roaming on skin. Fingertips touched bumps of scars, sliding down ever so slowly to grab a handful of one part of Mox's meaty ass. Knees pressed on either side of hips.

Hard dick pressed against a solid stomach, rubbing slowly. Mox gave a small sigh, aching fingers tangled in black hair; feeling the wrap of arms at the small of his back, being flipped quietly. Legs open, loosely around a muscled calf and another on Leakee's back. Felt the hardness against his thigh, grinding.

Neck kisses with neck bites, sucking to leave a dark mark. Fingers ghosted on his body again, touching every scar there was, slow grind of hips against his. Mox groaned softly, the bed creaking lightly. 

Lips trailed down, keeping his legs open. Biting his cut lip, watched the bigger man slide a little further down. Warm hands on his throbbing dick, bead of precome at the tip. Lips and tongue, soft licks and greedy sucking; squeezing at the base, moaning a little louder.

"I'm, ah--ah, I'm supposed to be-- _oh fuck yes--_ supposed to be taking care of you," Mox breathed, grabbing at Leakee's hair and pulled a little. Gasping at the swallow, so fucking hard in Leakee's mouth.

A hum around his dick, pit of his stomach hot. He twitched, breathing heavy. Mumbling dumb shit. Pulled at hair, wet sucking noises in the room; toes curling slowly.

"That mouth does wonders," he whispered, watching Leakee's tongue lick up the underside of his dick. Pulled away, Mox gave a high whine. Leakee made his way up, going back to kissing; Mox could taste a bit of himself, tongues meeting again and breathless moans in a mouth.

Hand on his wet dick, stroking in the right pace, hand around Leakee's wrist. Mox gasped some more, blue and brown staring at each other; cheeks red, bangs plastered to his sweaty face now. Low moan, he came. Shivered, pulling the bigger man down to kiss him some more--slow, long kisses; soft clicks.

Soft, and warm come splattered on him and thick globs in Leakee's hand. Mox took that hand, licked every finger and sucked on them hard; watching Leakee. Licked between fingers, smacked his lips and grinned.

Such dimples. So disgusting, they both were.

*

"Would you like to go with me to a family wedding?"

A soft chuckle. Fingers in his damp hair, missed that touch. Close to dozing off, laying together face to face.

"You think that's a good idea, doll?"

Mox was still naked, Leakee had his dick sucked in return. Soft glow, small laughter next door; room buzzed.

Shrug from Leakee, looking at Mox. "Thought you'd like a change of scenery is all." Small smile, still playing with dirty blond hair; one leg between his own.

Quiet, soft breathing. Brown staring at blue, gentle scratches to his scalp. Other hand coming up, one finger gently tracing the big swell under Mox's eye; a wince.

"Underground cage fighting," Mox explained, voice quiet. "It's my other job. All these scars an' bruises? Fightin'. Never lost a match; dirty, illegal, and big cash."

Leakee let a finger wonder over a scar; thick and smooth. Across Mox's chest, another at his collarbones. Arms, tiny ones on his face, hands, legs, stomach. He was such a fucking masterpiece; amazing how this man lived his life in sin.

"Went through alotta foster homes," he began, "lots of fights with bigger an' older kids. Was a hot head; had this itch to just fight, y'know? Almost killed this kid that kept pickin' on me; he hit me and I began beatin' on him."

Kids screaming, yelling for help. Mox didn't want to stop, kept punching and punching; never knew how much blood could come out of a kid that size, wasn't even fighting back anymore. 

Fingers kept playing in his hair. 

"Regal took me in; a twisted father figure, decided cage fights were a good idea for my outbursts of anger. So he put me in my first match at seventeen; haven't lost a fight."

Leakee was silent, still playing with hair and still touching faded and new formed scars. He sighed. What else has this guy been through? So much shit, no fun childhood. 

"Parents?"

Bitter laugh, a snort.

"Mommy Dearest whored herself, a junkie also; like mommy like son. Got raped, I was the product. Don't know who my daddy is. Born ten weeks premature with two holes in my heart and addicted to crank--she died on an overdose, too young to raise me anyways." A shrug.

"Jesus Christ, Jon...I'm sorry--"

Another bitter laugh, dimples shown.

"I'm nothin' more than a whore, doll."


	7. blood and ink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was inspired by Someone, Somewhere by Asking Alexandria. Beautiful song, really. 
> 
> So sorry for the shortness of this chapter! 
> 
> Anyways, things are going to be pretty good. Hopefully.  
> Enjoy~ and thank you guys again.
> 
> ♡

* * *

_this is not my true face._

_if you could see my soul, as i've seen my soul,_

_i could show it to you._

_it's rotten, it's poison,_

_help me, please._

* * *

 A loud slam to the wall, heavy sobs. Voices high, shouting; another slam. She always came back either way, never kept true to her words.  _"I'm so done with you! I fucking hate you!"_ Took a small bag, left with makeup smeared and a blooming bruise forming somewhere. Gave it a few days till she was sobbing on a beg, at the door. Always came back.

Soft light on the hallway, buzzing with each flying bug hitting it. Couldn't focus in the apartment, they got too loud. Sat on the first step to the second floor; cool night; humid a little. Soft wind. Hadn't had a cigarette, been awhile. Bits of ashes fell on the paper.

Brushed them aside, smeared black next to words. Leakee took a long drag, blowing smoke out in lazy manners. 

_Welcome to the diary of a man that lost his mind so long ago, welcome to the shell of a man with a heart so black and cold. Broken soul, sinful lips. A wild card; a man who never lost a fight, a champion at heart. He's so much more in worth than he knows, I want to help him with that. I'll be his salvation. He has such an innocence to those blue eyes, wicked grins and darling dimples. Deserves more in good; how many men has he slept with? Hundreds? Is every face a blur to him?_

_What is so special about him? I don't know, I never know. Being around him makes me want to hold him, touch him and mark him as my own. The right things, between us. I want to see him break, I want to see things from him that's he's never shown to others before. I want to see him angry, sad; I want him to cry, tell me things no one has told me. Set me straight._

_I want to be friends with a monster..._

Another long drag, held the smoke in. Rough burn, blew out quietly and read over. Sobs and the rush of footfalls, bag hit the back of his shoulder; she stumbled down the stairs, rushed off to the parking lot. Left for now. Sounds of breaking glass, things thrown around. 

Kept thinking of last night's talk; no family, only home was a brothel. Siblings were sex workers. Beaten bloody just for money, fucked for the painful pleasure that never satisfied. 

She always came back.

*

Body buzzing, a high. 

Loud cheering, huge crowds. So much money. Large opponent held him against the iron bars, hard punches to the stomach. Blow after blow, teeth clamped shut. Nails dug into skin from the back; breaking. Numb, the high buzzing him wildly.

Mox grabbed a fistful of hair, smacked their foreheads together. Growling, clawing at skin; kicked and punched. White tape stained with dirt and blood, a busted nose. Hand around his neck, crushing--hard punch to the face, opponent holding him in a way his sides would bruise.

Ribs hurt. Everything hurt, he was so tired. 

Upper torso glistening with sweat, eyes burning; open cuts burned just as much. Hair dripped in sweat, grimy dirt smeared on his body. The roars of the crowd got crazy, shouting and waving thick wads of cash.

His head throbbed and fingers tingled. The warehouse was spinning, the cages were melting. A loud ringing in his ears; the cheers slowed. His outburst came quick, grabbing at the large body; punched hard enough to hear the crack of a jaw. The busted spray of a nose, the nasty part of a bite to the neck, broke skin.

Large body fell in a heap to his feet. Down, the count; loud cheers. Collected his money, blood from his nose flowing lazily in his mouth and down his chin. Heavy breathing, so much sweat.

"Alpha Division winner of Rank 6: Jon Moxley."

Regal was there to greet him in the stalls. Thin smile, but pleased. Hugged him no matter how disgusting he looked, quick and pulled away.

"Very good, Jon." Regal looked Mox up and down. "Soon whoring yourself will be the only thing for you, my boy."

"Along with shitty escorting," Mox reminded, giving the wad of cash to Regal. Began taking his belt off his jeans, boots kicked off; socks pulled and jeans with boxers shoved down. 

Went to a stall and turned the knobs. Cold shower, low groan and started washing himself with the soaps given to him. Regal followed, stood at the side of the stall. Watched him shower quietly, Mox scrubbing harshly at his skin; water flowing of brown.

"More money, Jon. You simply keep that mouth shut, enjoy the night.

*

_"Oh fuck yes! God you feel so good, such a nice ass..."_

Mox grunted in reply, hard slam; thick fingers dug deep in his hips. Neck red, new face--feeling raw. Bruised and a little broken still, legs pushed open; a cramp staring on his right thigh.

Didn't say anything, didn't meet any eyes. The bed smacked the wall, heavy breathing and hair in his eyes. Sorta hurt tonight, the fucking didn't help. A groan, the spill in latex and the pull out. Loud sigh, zip of pants and the toss of a crumpled fifty.

_Nothin' more than a whore._

* * *

 "What's your poison?"

First date away from the brothel; a bar called  _The Oil Can._ Country style, open spaced and cool; concrete floors, three wide rooms--bar area, few tables with flat screens, small stage in another room; high ceilings, private rooms for private parties.

Hung around this place too much; knew every face. Loved the greasy food. A few fights had happened here; all because of his hot headed nature.

"Hey, doll. Just gets us two beers, yeah?" Mox winked at the dark haired girl. "And uh, burgers. Yeah, lotsa onion rings too!"

She gave a nod, amused look and jotted down the order.

Turned in the swivel bar stool, had scooted closer to Leakee. Leaned in and gave a quick peck to the lips, smirking. Dim lit almost, quiet to each other and looked around. One wall decorated with writings; from sharpies to pens, names or dates. Didn't matter.

"Parents still around?" 

Leakee gave a smile, nodding. One arm rested on smooth wood; other hand rested on Mox's thigh, gentle squeeze. 

"My old man used to wrestle; more like a royal bloodline of wrestling. Big family."

"Oh yeah? Maybe they'd like me then, fightin' dirty an' all." Mox grinned, dimples popped. "Decided to be the black sheep, huh?"

Leakee shrugged. "Wanted to break the cycle. Decided to teach, Dad wasn't really thrilled about it; Mom just supported my decision." 

There was a small look to Mox; a hint of hurt, maybe. Leakee wasn't sure, never knew the life like Mox--never had a parent leave him, they loved each other. Family was everything to Leakee. Maybe it was what Mox needed.

"Here you go, boys. Enjoy," bartender said, sliding in two beers and a basket of burgers and onion rings. Thick, stacked and hot. Fresh. Smelled so good.

"Thanks," answered Leakee, smiling. Mox replying with, "Gracias, Nattie," and dug right in; squirting enough ketchup on the side, fingers on thin butcher paper wrapped up on the burger.

Mouthful of food, lips could barely close; Mox continued. 

"Your parents okay with ya dating a hooker?" the blond asked, sort of a mumble with the chewing and food stuffed.

So they were dating? Leakee ate a little cleaner, a little slower than the animal beside him; as if he was a starved dog. How did this dating thing work with Mox using his body? Learned enough on each other, saw one another as much as they could. But it was only for pleasure, correct? Leakee paid, Mox gave.

"Uh, they sorta know. Told my cousin I'd bring you along if you wanted, but they don't know that you're uh, a uh--"

"A whore?"

Took a swig of beer, hearing a soft chuckle and light smacking of lips. Didn't want to say it like that, but...

"S'okay, man. I'll tell 'em myself," Mox said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Another swig of beer.

So he was going to the wedding as a _date_. Leakee got a little excited about that.

Quietly ate as they gave small chatter, drank enough beers for a small buzz. Finished their food, shared the same thing. Gave small kisses, decided to leave earlier than they planned. Still nice, simple date; the feel of fingers curling around his shirt, Leakee kissing back Mox each time.

Before they left, Mox grabbed a sharpie off the counter; went to the written wall. Looked for a clean spot, clicked his tongue and felt a warm hand on the small of his back.

Found a spot; with quick, sloppy writing:

_Leakee, my home sweet home._

_\- Jon Moxley_

From the heart, and the new start of life for both.


	8. hold your breath, my dear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to let ya'll know, I have mad respect for this former female wrestler. My icon, she's a badass. So like, please know that I don't think less of her; this is a fictional story, obviously so.
> 
> But anyways, finally updated. Things are going to get really good, I swear. And I think chapters are going to be a tad longer. Thank you guys for keeping up with me, means alot.

* * *

_i'm living a lie,_

_there's a creature hiding inside of me._

_black as the night with a cold dead heart and a lust to sin,_

_so i shut it out, i bottle up, i hide it from the world._

_if i let it out i don't know what i'll do,_

_there's a creature inside of you, too._

* * *

 "We should double date sometime."

Mox shrugged, leather crunching against leather. Shades on, no bruises to hide; just a glazed gaze of a rush. 

Sat in the leather sofa; Tyler's pretty blond head rested in Fandango's lap, legs in Mox's own. Fingers slipped in and out of Tyler's hair, lazy and gentle. Body thrumming with the high, so relaxed. 

"Still trying to understand what you see in  _him_ _,_ " Tyler said, knee nudging at Mox's chest. That one was new.

Always asked why Leakee even bothered with a guy like him; replied with a sarcastic answer. Still didn't know what Leakee thought, only great thing about him? Fucking and fighting. Well, Mox thought so.

"He listens to me," Mox said, crooked smile and one dimple showing, "has a good heart."

Couldn't help but think of a sunshine smile, warm skin. The warm presence of a body; a soft chuckle each time Mox made a dirty joke. Wasn't sure how relationships worked; hadn't been in one, closest relationship he had was lost a long time ago. Still thought of him, still missed  _him._

*

Two weeks early, Leakee decided. 

Middle of August, heat was terrible. School was to start at the end of the month; wedding was before that, go two weeks before it. Catch up with family, spend more time. Leakee was nervous; bringing a date to meet his family, bringing  _Mox._

Deciding to drive; take long naps, wake up grumpy. Feeling too claustrophobic in the truck, wanting to move;  _do something._ Kept looking out the window with a sort of neverous gesture. A hand on his thigh, gently rubbing and patting, got him calmed. Still wasn't enough. 

"Friends are considered family too, treat us right. Big respect comes from both sides, you know?"

Mox gave a nod. Had been chatting a little; more Leakee though, family stuff and all. He gave a small sigh and looked out the window, deserted highway; sun was setting.

"Pullover," grunted Mox.

"I--uh, what? Are you okay, babe?" Nervous glance over to blond and blue eyes.

"Said pullover," Mox repeated. Took his seat belt off, waiting impatiently for Leakee to just shut up and pullover.

A huff, and the gentle glide of the car; pulledover in a open area, shown where cars of 18-wheelers would stop to sleep. Parked, and looked over at Mox.

"Now what's the problem--what, what are you  _doing_?"

"The perks of dating a whore, doll." Leaned over, fingers undoing the button and zipper; uncomfortably laying on the middle console, pushed himself more closer to Leakee. 

Dick in hand, briefs pushed down and under; leaned in a gave a small kiss to the tip, a soft groan. Stroked to hardness, hot and thick; slit wet, Mox getting his mouth around Leakee's dick. Another groan, the gentle touch of fingers in blond hair.

Went sloppy, head bobbing and spit slick. Squeezed at the base, a sigh; the gentle comb of fingers in hair, light tugs. Head fallen back on the headrest, eyes closed; biting the bottom of lip, Leakee gave a little push of his hips.

"Fuck," he breathed. The noises of sucking, slurping and the hum around his dick; small nips, jolting at the pleasureable way Mox dragged his teeth lazily on tender skin.

Mox's mouth felt so  _good._ Wondered just what else could feel good; a hand went to his ass, squeezing through the material of jeans; heard the whine around his dick. Leakee smirked lazily, rubbing slowly on the curve.

The perks of dating a whore.

*

The hugs came first. Then the "it's good to see you!" "We've missed you so much!" and "you've grown!" A room of happy vibes; smiles and greetings, kisses on cheeks, tight hugs and slaps on the back.

Mox never knew this sort of affection. Watched, silently; no one really gave him looks, too busy with Leakee. Big man with little women around him; older men and younger ones excitedly greeting Leakee in their native tongue. A smile came to Mox, how easy this man was to this big family; how much affection he gave.

A hand grabbed his, fingers lacing slowly. Soft, warm. Looked up at a sunshine smile and a nod.  _It's okay._ Now felt nervous; more quiet, didn't know how a family worked.

"This is Jon Moxley," Leakee announced, getting eyes on them. A swirl of nervousness in his stomach, hating so much attention. "My special someone, my  _date._ "

Smiles on him, smiled back. Didn't get dirty looks; felt okay, accepted. The kiss to the back of his hand, soft. 

Small gathering was held in a church hall; simple for both of the bride and groom's family and friends to join in. Leakee got a bit of the attention; seemed like it had been awhile.

Twins, and the same ink on their arms; just like Leakee's. Looked at them, bright smiles and talkative; one of them was to marry, couldn't tell which one. Hugs to the bigger; the introduction of him to them, gave a smile and handshake. Didn't looked surprised at the sight of Leakee's date; did they know? Did he tell them already?

Was led around to table from table; introduced as a date. Gave a handshake, sometimes hugged too tight.

Already felt like family. 

"So this is the one? Wow, didn't know you were all for this  _type,_ " a voice came; feminine and rough, amused.

Leakee tensed next to him, looked up at a blank face with eyes wide. Turned to look over, see a red-headed woman; a smirk, tatted arms with a simple black dress; hugged her curves, and she was beautiful. 

"What the  _hell_ are you doing here?"

" _Language_ ," she said, still smirking; watching him. Dark eyes hard, a frown. "There's children here."

Gave a pat to his arm, flinched away. Laughed, walked off to greet a family at the table; stayed quiet as he watched her, hand squeezing too tight. 

"Who is she?" Mox finally asked, curious; curious to why he was so mad, why so tensed because of  _her._

Clamped teeth, the frown of eyebrows. A deep sigh; frustrated. Didn't meet blue, kept staring at her.

"My ex-wife."

* * *

Didn't talk much after, met everyone around the place. Still didn't talk as much, Mox felt it. Felt the tension, the hurt maybe; seeing someone you loved, comes back from the grave. Knew how it felt.

"I haven't seen her the day I left here, alright? I have nothing towards her; we're  _done._ "

Sounded panic almost, trying desperately to explain himself. Kinda funny to Mox.

A slow smile, a nod. "It's okay, man. I used to have someone close to me, know how the pain works." Leg over on Leakee's thigh, sitting close at a table; with few young relatives chatting to themselves. 

Hand on his thigh, squeezing. Small peck to the corner of his mouth; a sigh. Hair loose, gotten a little longer.

"Want punch? Bet it's spiked," Mox offered, dimples shown with a smirk. A small chuckle from the English teacher, a nod.

Got up to go across the room; saw the large bowl, deep red. Other platters of cookies; decorated in bright, colorful icing. A few walked by, kids snatched cookies and ran; grabbed hard plastic cups in neat designs. 

Poured the punch, sneaking cookies into his leather jacket pockets; felt okay, felt good.

"I just wanted to introduce myself," came that same voice, amused and rough.

Perked up, turned to see the same red-head.

"Lita," she said, hand out to him. A smile, lipstick lips; not as red as the twin though. "Didn't know Leakee was into...a guy  _like you._ "

Bristled, glared. She kept smiling, not fazed by the puff of Mox. Let her hand down, wasn't going to touch her. Wasn't scared of anything, why be scared of  _her_?

Hand shook, fingers curling tighter around plastic. Stared at her, corner of her mouth turned up in a smile; dark. Heard the crack, red liquid spilling on his hand; stained his jeans, splattered the floor. Just wanted to  _hit._

Got up into her face, growling lowly. Noses almost touching; fist tight around a shard of plastic, feeling the slow break of skin on his palm. She wasn't moved by his behavior. 

" _Bitch,_ " he snapped. "I'm not scared to hit _you,_ stay the fuck away."

*

Paced in the bathroom. Hand bleeding; smeared blood in his hair, fists tight in blond. Growled and smacked the wall, kicked stalls. Why was  _she doing_ this?! Why? Angry, wanted to punch someone, be fucked or  _something._

Door opened, turned to see him. Wide brown eyes, the blood dripping from his hand. Wild eyes, heavy breathing.

"Jon..." Walked slowly to him, cautiously. A stinging slap to the side of his face, numbing. Leakee felt  _that one._

"Wh--what happened? Not enough sex, no love? Why the divorce?" Looked at soft brown, blood smeared on his cheek from the slap.

A deep sigh, the gentle hands around his wrist. The cup of hands around his face.

"I was lonely. I wanted someone with me; she was a good friend to me, slept alot together. But we didn't  _love each other,_ she found another man during our marriage. I didn't care, I just needed someone to be with..." Another sigh, foreheads pressed together. "When I got the chance to leave, I did. I left her, didn't look back. Came to this brothel and met a wild card, blue eyes and beautiful dimples; I was smitten."

Soft kiss, the curl of fingers in a dress shirt; blood staining. It got heavy, picked up. Placed on the vanity area, wide space; Leakee in between legs. Tongues played, teeth bit.

"Fuck me, just fuck me. Alright?"

*

Walked to the bathroom, determined to make things  _right_ with him; what did he he even see in that shaggy haired idiot anyway? 

Low groans, quiet whines and the slap of skin on skin. Peaked through the door, could see the blond perched on the counter top of the vanity; Leakee between his legs. That stung.

Mox held onto the bigger, nails digging into skin through thin material. One leg dangling, the other wrapped around thick hips; the pleasure was fantastic, finally having this moment to himself. Wasn't raw, wasn't painful; felt  _great._

Neck was marked, heavy breathing and the gasp of every hit; Leakee getting to the right place. Blue eyes looked over, saw the door open; seeing her standing there, watching them. Held tighter onto the bigger man; a grin spread across his lips, dimples shown. 

Leakee too busy fucking the hell out of Mox.

Winked at her, gave a moan when Leakee slammed a little harder; pulled at hair. Door closed, left to themselves again. Sloppy kisses, other hand pressed to the wall; dried blood on jeans, shirts and skin.

Handprint bright red on Leakee's side of the face, Mox bit hard on a shoulder; dick sliding back and forth on smooth skin, heavy breathing from both. Looked up to meet blown pupils, hair pulled; spreading himself more on Leakee.

Nothin' more than a whore, and the perks of dating one. 


	9. kiss your heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little "trivia" or however you wanna look at it.  
> >this whole fic was actually inspired by the song The Death of Me by Asking Alexandria, I actually fell in love with the acustic version, but the original is a good one too. (I added a link so you guys can check it out)
> 
> >a song like that gave me an idea of a broken man trying to find comfort in a person or something to keep him anchored. Bada bing bada boom, this baby was delivered. 
> 
> >Mox wasn't the one to do the cage fighting; just prostitution. And Leakee was going to be the cool laid back teacher and a fucking killer fighter at night, winning money and all. But instead, I choose this au.
> 
> >the relationship I wanted with these two had me wanting either tooth rotting sweetness, or a "I love you so much" with a twist of "you've destroyed me more than I wanted to save the both of us." So, now you see.
> 
> I just wanted to give ya'll a little snip of what my mind comes up with, you know? Don't be scared to ask me some stuff or just talk about this twisted shit, I love chatting about crazy fic ideas! This story is no where near done, I still have /a lot/ to share. And I want your hearts to be broken.  
> Come talk to me: dancinglucifer.tumblr.com  
>    
> <https://youtu.be/JQBz83cdu50>

* * *

_do you remember the beginning?_

_heartbeats as one and the same?_

_living smitten in texas, burning bright as a flame._

_so young and in love, no care what anyone said,_

_'til my soul grew cold and my heart turned dead._

* * *

Warm sand against hands and bare feet, soft with light waves rolling; families dotted around, kids making sand castles. Shades and windy hair, the warmth of the sun. Wispy clouds scattered the bright blue sky, felt nice. Alone.

Sat together with legs crossed, hands resting behind; dirty blond in a lap, hands folded on a bare stomach. The drag of a cigarette.

Still had next week till the wedding; still had yet to meet the parents. Leakee had waited. Ex-wife drama settled; gave quite a show in that bathroom, impressed Mox was. After-sex had marks on a tan back, bit of skin broke from blunt nails; dark hues of  _love_ on necks and chests, slim hips and thighs.

Didn't talk much, enjoyed the quiet time; screaming kids from afar, a dog barking. Took another drag, blew smoke out.

A kiss to the lips, smile there and dimples bright. Rough fingertips at a dark goatee, playing. It was nice to be away; away from rough hands, raw fucking that never satisfied. Not bloody and beaten, no swollen eyes or blood; body aches came and went, still took the forty dollar rush.

"You, uh--you mentioned you knew what the pain felt like with an ex," Leakee spoke up, looking down with shades still on--gentle fingers combing through shaggy blond.

Ghost of a smile, a hand sinking into velvet sand. The swell of his heart, the bittersweet memories of public sex and public intoxication; bloody fights with broken bottles and the rotten love they had for each other.

"I was sixteen and he was my goddamn world," started Mox, shades keeping pained eyes covered. "We ran away together; gettin' molested by your foster daddy wasn't the dream for me. Foster mommy always turned the other way." A snort, the tense body of Leakee's. 

Fingers tangled themselves in his hair, combing and pulling out little knots from the wind; staying gentle. 

"I was so drunk and high one night, I had offered myself to a stranger. Woke up in his bed, was how we officially met; after that we hit off perfectly." Mox licked his lips, sand slipping through his fingers, playing with the thin chain around his neck. "We did whatever drugs our shitty hands could get. Fucked every night, got arrested. Livin' life at it's fucking finest."

Leakee didn't look at him, stared at lazy waves; hair in a messy knot. Still played with his hair. A sigh.

"It was Valentine's Day, celebratin' four years together. A shitty motel room, sitting on the floor. We shot up, more than I wanted; but hey, it felt fuckin' good." A shrug, the swallow of a tightness; the hitch of breath. "We--uh, we overdosed and I--I woke up. He didn't."

A slow tear fell from the corner of a blue eye, sliding down. The sting, tightness in his throat didn't help. Tug of a certain string to his heart, the fist around loose sand.

"My pain is a little different than yours, but I still understand how close you get with someone when you're lonely."

*

Held hands and walked the beach silently. Didn't talk much after the bitter love story, let the cool water run over their bare feet. Mox let his mind drift; broken glass trying to be taped, cheap and a failed attempt. 

Starting to see things, listen to the way the blond explained his life. Leakee wanted this, wanted to  _know more_ on a life of destruction; feel the pain, hear the life of a broken soul just needing someone, or something. 

The blond stopped, looked at the bigger with shades. Turned, pointed at a scar behind his left shoulder, bright and white; shiny. Thick, patched and messy; as if trying to claw something out.

"We got matching tattoos, I went into Regal's kitchen and found a cheese grater. Scraped it off as best as I could after I realized he wasn't coming back," he explained. 

Dark eyes stared at blue, a frown. Leaned in and gave a small kiss, sighing softly with foreheads pressed together quietly. 

"I'm here," whispered Leakee. "You have  _me_ now."

*

So much food that Mox had never seen in his entire life. Platters and bowls, decorated and slathered; passed around with foods stacked high on plates, loud they all were. Laughed, repeated same old stories; intrigued at them all, relaxed and in a positive mood.

Sat beside the bigger man, man of the household sat at the head of the large table. Mox shook so many hands, cheeks kissed more than once; hugged tight again. Small family gathering, seemed like a family  _reunion._

Dimples were there, bright and alive; Leakee's hand on his thigh as he served him; took whatever food the bigger showed, sitting comfortably around his blood.

"Do you work?"

Small squeeze to his thigh, a rub. Finished chewing his food; slow for once and trying to be less  _animalistic._ Smirk played around his lips.

Leakee's mother was asking; small blond woman with so much love for her family. 

"Yes, ma'am. I'm uh--I'm a prostitute, and I compete in illegal cage fighting." Wiped his mouth with a napkin, eyes on him. Cleared his throat, tongue licking at gums on leftover food.

Wasn't the answer they wanted; wanted something more  _normal_ because who in the hell would date a prostitute? Being served around, dicks in his ass every night and feeling disgusting each time. Scarred body, a mess.

"Your boyfriend wrestles, but you chose to teach a  _high school class,_ " his father says, looking at the bigger.

A snort. Forgot they were about wrestling; a royal bloodline, Leakee had called it. No tension, no bitter remarks. Maybe it seemed they only cared for his happiness, didn't matter who the person was. Mox liked that. No judgments. 

"A prizefighting hooker," Sika adds, getting a few hearty laughs. Smile broke across the blond's lips. 

"Gets down  _and_ dirty, uce," one of the twins says, elbowing playfully at Leakee's side, grinning.

Before a reply came a small knock at the door; the fall of footsteps and the raise of heads. Cold chills; another squeeze to the thigh and the tension followed. 

She stood at the door, smiling brightly; fake. Red hair tied up in a messy top knot, looked amused and met eyes with pale blue ones and dark brown. Dressed in ripped jeans and a tight Duran Duran tee, bangles clinking. 

"The hell are you doing  _here_?" Leakee hissed. Blond bristled, teeth clamped and the curl of his lip; wanted to go up and hit her. 

A slap to the arm by his mother, stern look.

" _Behave._ "

Lita sat in front of Mox, smiling darkly and gave a wink. The heat in the room rose, tension tight. Clear of throats and the awkward shifting. Didn't care; all he wanted to do was go, be alone with Leakee again; maybe get fucked some more. 

"Sorry I'm late," she announced, still giving that fake and dark smile to the two.

* * *

"I'm going to fuckin'  _hit her,_ " he seethed, pacing the room. Posters of football players, a few band ones; medals and jerseys, pinned to a dark wall. Left how it was when he didn't look back.

Trembling fingers, head aching. Needed a high, needed a fucking.  Needed  _something._ He kicked at air, growling.

"Jon," the soft voice spoke, low. "She's doing it to rile you up the most, it's a game to her. Leave it."

Whirled around, wide blue eyes and face red. Trembling again, fists tight and the urge to hit him too. Stared at the bigger perched on his bed, hair loose from the tie.

When would he be able to stay happy? Why did people from toxic lives come and ruin shit for him? He wanted to be fucking happy again, wanted to be sixteen and  _free._ It never was fair. What did he have to fucking do to keep the poison away?

Pulled at hair, breathing heavy. "Fuck me," he hissed, teeth clamped and shoved at the leather jacket; kicking it aside with a harsh manner.

A nod, shirt coming off instantly. 

Only way to get shit off his mind; pressed into a mattress or slammed against a wall, fucked dirty. Didn't matter how painful it got, needed something to  _feel_ rather than to think. A quick high would settle his buzzing mind; didn't want to be a junkie whore around him though, barely getting used to their relationship. 

Pants slipped off, socks and shoes thrown aside. The toss of underwear and the movements on the bed for a comfortable position. The rough kissing, sloppy with tongues darting here and there; fingers curling around thick muscle, nails digging into soft parts. 

Grinds and low moans, heavy sighs. Biting at lips, hair pulled and growls coming off trembling lips. Two fingers in, was all it took; saliva slicked and curled, eyes closed and brown watching, body above rocking. 

Mox shoved Leakee on his back, a grunt and the watching kept his own eyes down. Flat palm pressed firmly on a tan chest, other free hand guiding a thick dick inside; low burn, the stretch and push of hips. Full, spread; and fitting just in the right way.

Large hands around his hips, squeezed hard. Groaned at the feel; head tossed back, prayers to the ceiling and rocked his body; rode Leakee slowly at first, bed squeaking and hands moved to the backboard--kept him steady as he got his push. Gasped and groaned, knees tightly pressed into the mattress on either side of the bigger's hips.

" _Jon,_ " breathed Leakee, staring up at the blond; clouded gaze and lustful voice, thick and heavy. "Fuck..."

His own dick leaked against his stomach, dripping slowly on Leakee's pudgy stomach. Didn't need to be touched to come, so used to the abandonment. Rocked again, quick pace of a quick fuck. Headboard smacked on the wall, hips below him slammed a little harder.

Nails dug into pale skin--leave more marks to see, the hard slap to his ass; tight grip at the meaty part. Pulled down for a sloppy, heavy breathing kiss; still fucked himself--cupping the underside of Leakee's jaw, dick sliding in and out of him; wet and throbbing.

"Harder," groaned Mox, clawing up a tan chest; broke some skin. "I need some pain here."

*

The glow didn't last, room smelt of warm sex and body odor. Took a shower and fucked in there too. Wore one of Leakee's old shirts from college days; oversized and comfy. Said he looked good, got a wink in reply. Large tee with simple black briefs, laid flat on his back.

Leakee had somewhat curled around at the blond's side, arm draped over a pale body. Face buried in curls and a marked neck; fast asleep. 

Soft breathing. Mox kept his hands folded on his chest, staring up at the ceiling. Mind swirling again. Sex didn't help, touching or kissing; a sunshine smile seemed distant. Looked over at the large figure sleeping peacefully beside him--gave a kiss to his temple, hair still damp. 

Stared at Leakee for awhile, wondering. What did the brown eyes really see in him, what got his attention the first night they met. Why him, of all people. 

Heart swelled with pain. The churn of his stomach. 

He felt like a better human being around Leakee. Still let his mind wonder that maybe, possibly, down the road Leakee would find someone more fitting; someone who wasn't broken, didn't have a soul ripped and a black heart.

Maybe he'd go back with  _her_ and not with a man like him. Mox was worthless, nothing more than a whore. He wanted to be loved and wanted; could give that, could try. Needed an anchor; Leakee was that. But for how long?

 Didn't know how long the happiness would last, didn't know how long he'd put up with his whoring ass. It sucked, wondering when the day would come that Leakee would be tired; get up and leave. No one wanted a dirty junkie like him.

A hitch of breath, the tightness came back. Tears silently fell, staining the pillow they shared. Bigger man didn't stir. Mox wanted to hit himself now, shouldn't be crying for stupid shit.

_Don't cry, you worthless sonofabitch._

Angrily wiped at his tears with his free hand, other one stuck under Leakee. Sucked in a deep, trembling breath. Everything hurt now, wanted it all to go away; wanted his mind to stop buzzing so much. Shouldn't have these feelings for this wonderful man who picked  _him,_ a man who was pure and gentle; a glowing soul.

Silently cried, kissed Leakee's temple again. 

_Please don't leave me._


	10. the shell of a boy of the man i used to be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapters starting now.  
> Oh god, I'm so sorry for the lack of updates.  
> Did I ever tell you guys that this isn't going to be a fairytale of happy endings? No? 
> 
> **WARNINGS**  
> After the first section of this chapter, a rape scene happens.  
> Apparently being 16 considers you an adult. But, still; a rape/molestation scene happens, still a goddamn child okay.  
> Beating of a child happens as well.  
> Also a homophobic slur happens to be said.
> 
> Ya'll are probably wondering "what the fuck Kymberlee." We're going a few years back is all, 16/17 year old Mox and his special guest lover are making an appearance, a bit of the beautiful life they had is all, nothing big. This will probably be the only flashback so.
> 
> You guys have been warned. If ya'll don't want to read that shit, that's a-okay for me. The first section is fine, but after that, you're allowed to skip. You guys probably have read far worse than this, but I'm still warning ya'll.  
> Thank you to the ones who have kept up with me on this story, didn't think I'd go this far but oh my fuck. Thank you thank you. ♡

* * *

_if only he knew about the world without the bullshit_

_and the lies, we could've saved him,_

_they could've saved me._

_but instead i'm here drowning in my own fucking mind,_

_and i'll be dammed if you're the death of me._

* * *

"...you may now kiss the bride."

It was just that simple; words of affection and promises till death and by each side at old and grey, the seal of a kiss and the love ever lasting. Light wind, a sunset with a watercolor sky. Felt a little sweaty in a suite made in the perfect size for him; sat beside the parents, Leakee the best man. Simple wedding, still dressed like the riches.

Brown eyes found him, a sunshine smile of tan skin; hair tied back perfectly. Leakee winked at him, dimples showed back in a smile of return; shades covering blue.

Cheers, claps and whistles. Stood, watched husband and wife leave down the aisle of makeshift; white trail of velvet sand surrounding, lazy waves and deep blue water at the background. Maui was such a beautiful scene for a wedding. 

Twenty minutes of standing awkwardly around, seeing hugs on a bride dressed in simple ivory; slaps on the back of a happy husband, smiles too bright. Close to dark, reception and dance to follow in a church hall.

Arms snaked around his waist, back to chest. Mox looked up from behind, smiling slowly and kissed the under jaw of Leakee's. Small kiss to his neck, gentle squeeze to his waist. They held each other, felt like the longest time; just the two of them, quiet and soft breathing against skin.

Mox's stomach growled, letting it be known loud and clear. A small snort from the bigger man, quick kiss to the top of shaggy hair.

"Guess I'm hungry," the blond mumbled.

"Don't worry babe, I got you covered." Grabbed a hand, led it back; Leakee placed Mox's hand on his own groin area. "Five star and everythin'." Grinned down at the blond.

Raised eyebrows with a playful smirk; gave a squeeze to Leakee's groin, hearing a soft intake of breath. 

"Save that for later, pass up the cake for this." Gave another squeeze and the soft grunt, low hum and the kiss right under the ear; small silver hoop tugged with teeth.

"Let's go celebrate."

*

A toast, so much food; laughter and hugs, lipstick smiles and lip stains on cheeks, children running around. Beautifully decorated; looked expensive, Mox didn't want to touch. Neat, very neat.

Wasn't one for dancing, never liked it. Couldn't even fucking look proper doing it.  _He_ loved it, would persuade it all the time. Was led to the dance floor, dim lights; large circle of family and friends, hand holding. Few went out to dance a light one.

Nervous, didn't want to fucking step on Leakee. Snorted and felt arms slide around his waist, arms around the bigger's neck. Quiet smiles, sharing of kisses and light sways; Jason Mraz's  _I Won't Give Up_ held a little thing there for the two of them, eyes never leaving one another. 

Felt relaxed, no aches; no itch for a rush. Calm, held in the arms of Leakee. _Safe_. Nothing else mattered, brown and blue; pressed closer and the warmth radiating from both. Ugly thoughts were gone, and maybe they'd be alright.

Hadn't felt like this in awhile; to let loose. Mox's arms curled around Leakee's own, side of his head pressed against a beating heart. Gentle, a soft lullaby. Kiss to the temple, Leakee smiled.

" _I won't give up on us,_

_Even if the skies get rough._

_I'm giving you all my love,_

_I'm still looking up._

_\--_

_And when you're needing your space_

_To do some navigating,_

_I'll be here patiently waiting._

_To see what you find..."_

Little tug of a smile, moving in light movements; a little stiff. It was fine, though. Rubs so soft at his back, lips brushing delicately on his forehead--soft hums. Few eyes on them and Mox didn't care, it was just the two of them for this moment. 

No fights, no bruises of hands from a rough lay; no highs. Simple, quiet and okay. Sighed softly and hid his face into Leakee's neck; eyes closed and breathed him in. Really wasn't dancing anymore, barely movement to even look like dancing. 

_"'Cause even the stars they burn,_

_Some even fall to the earth._

_We've got a lot to learn,_

_God knows we're worth it._

_No, I won't give up..."_

*

Dancing was done now, excused himself to the bathroom of the church hall. Announcing of some dance with the bride or some shit, wasn't sure. Drinking started; hadn't tasted rich alcohol in quite awhile. Thought about getting a sip, more with quick highs than slow burns. 

Lights dimmed again. Came out after letting his bladder relax, zipped up; walked out the bathroom quietly with washed hands. Ran a hand through his hair, looked up to see  _them._ Stopped dead in his tracks at the sight.

Didn't matter to Mox, shouldn't matter. They were divorced now; also knew what it felt like to lose and still have that needed part for the love of your life; Leakee didn't consider  _her_ as part of his love life, he had said.

He had happiness that no one else would understand; a heart break was different, a silent pain and the crush of a heart with loneliness. Leakee and Mox still understood what being lonely felt like, knew the hurt.

Though to see  _this_ happening, the hidden smile from Leakee; the way he held  _her_ as they danced to a different song, other bridesmaids dancing along with their partners. It felt wrong to Mox, felt something bitter make it's way home; deep in the core of his heart.

Fingers shook, upper lip twitched; head began to hurt, the urge to  _hit._ Shaky fingers toyed with the silver chain; why was he  _doing this?_ Remembered clearly Leakee was done with  _her,_ forgotten and the reason he left.

 Dance ended and the soft clapping of guests; all left the dance floor for the next thing. Leakee holding her hand, leading her to a table. Close to where he stood. Gave a dirty look to the two, caught Leakee's gaze.

A sad smile, a glare in return. Turned away, stomped his way back to the bathroom; so angry now,  _hurt._ Wasn't this a date, for them? An official thing? Mox wanted to leave now, find someone for pleasure; easy and to stay away. To not think about a sunshine smile at  _her._

Slammed the door open. Stared at his reflection, angry blue; clamped teeth. A little red faced, shaggy blond a mess; growled and reared back his fist. Glass shattering, sickeningly sight of busted knuckles. Blood dripped into the sink, the painful satisfaction. 

Door opened again, a gasp and quick set of footsteps. 

"The  _hell?_ " Fingers tried touching the raw skin, hands wanted to hold a bloody wrist.

Pulled away before he was touched.

"Don't--just, just stay the fuck away from me," hissed Mox, cradling his hand to his chest; blood staining fabric. Had worse, this was just small cuts.

"Jon--"

"No, fuck  _you!_ The hell was that back there, huh? Said you didn't love her, said you didn't have any ties with her! An' you two are out there dancin' and bein' googly eyed."

A deep sigh, the smell of alcohol on Leakee's breath. Too much, too strong.

"Maybe we should just keep cool with whatever this is between us from her, alright?" Leakee suggested. 

More anger, shaky hands. 

"Whatever  _this is_?" seethed Mox, breathing heavy now. Stared at wide, glassy brown eyes; wanted to hit him really hard. See something broken. 

"You--ah, you know what I mean, Jon." Another sigh, a hand rubbing over his face. Swayed a bit, how much did he drink? 

High tension, clouded anger and hurt.

"No, I fuckin' don't."

Turned to leave, leave somewhere for awhile. Get a forty dollar rush; a good fuck, anything to dull out the pain starting to grow. Hand reached out to grab his good hand, light squeeze and small pull.

"Jon--look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean--"

"Get the fuck away from  _me!_ " 

The harsh slap to the face, prickled of skin again. Mox left, stomped out and hurt. Rushed out the door in the back, tightness in his throat. Cool night, light wind. Ripped his jacket off; thin shirt and dress pants, decided to take whatever direction and find the first person.

Anyone willingly to fuck him raw.

* * *

Dirty motel room, sticky carpet. Heavy smell of cigarette smoke; cold. Thin walls, stains and ripped wallpaper. 

Hands roamed their way to his back, down to his ass and  _grabbed._ Didn't care, used to this shit. Knew how to work this even on the streets; brothel of Regal's had the same difference. 

Lips that weren't Leakee's trailed down his neck, kissed and trailed around; soft sighs. Body against him from behind, hips grabbed and the slow thrust to his ass.

Needed this distraction, keep ugly thoughts away. Didn't want to hear or see the bigger man at all. The rip of clothes went, tossed aside and led to the bed. Didn't know his name, didn't bother to ask; wanted a blow job and some nice fucking, Mox promised a night to remember. 

Preferred the position of face down, ass up. Seeing a stranger's face wasn't all for him, didn't want to see. Just needed to be  _fucked._

 Ripped foil, squelch of lube; cap closed and two fingers in, hitch of breath and uncomfortable sensation. Wasn't  _his_ hands on him, wasn't gentle. Was given a small dose before coming, paid for it; felt the high now.

Slow, dreamy. A bit numb. Stared off into space, being fucked from behind. Hands on slim hips, lined up and pushed. Didn't make a noise, heard the low groan from above. 

Closed his eyes and thought of dancing, soft words from Jason Mraz; the song pulling him in for a lullaby. The sand gentle on him, crashing waves; Leakee holding him, promising things in hushed whispers. And then the ache of crying himself to sleep those days ago; he wasn't a good person without Leakee. 

Fingers curled into the sheets, felt the throb of his right hand; bloody knuckles raw and bruising, skin torn and badly wrapped with a piece of the shirt he had on. Didn't break anything, knew what it felt like for bones broken and all.

The thrusts kept going, heavy breathing from the man above; moaning and mumbling bullshit. Mox sighed, wasn't even hard; didn't feel the push of heat; nothing.

_"I'm giving you all my love, I'm still looking up..."_

*

Always tainted with filth, inside and outside. No one really paid attention to blooming bruises and scars, thick and barely noticeable. Showers helped, pretended he was clean like God himself washed away his sins for one night. Scrubbed hard, always did; pink skin and warm.

Briefs only on, clothes still thrown. Needed a smoke, high kept buzzing; no glow. Guy who screwed him sitting on the bed, surprised he even hung around. Usually they left, thrown bills there. 

Shook his head like a dog, light droplets flung out. Sighed and grabbed the money off the bed beside the dude; frowned. Was cheap, wasn't  _that_ cheap though.

"Hey man, said a hundred. You're another fifty off," Mox mumbled, giving a short laugh and looked at the guy.

A shrug. "Too pricy, you'll survive on fifty bucks. I mean, a whore like you doesn't need  _so much._ "

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" Shook his head, frowned more. "Look man, whatever. Just give me the other fifty, you go one way an' I go the other. Simple as that."

Dude stood up, took a drag of his cigarette and blew smoke into Mox's face. A smirk. The tremble of fingers, the build up coming; feeling hot again. Closed his eyes and twisted his head to the side. Could hit him, could beat him bloody enough; take the money and hide.

"You want the fifty? Fine." 

Didn't register fast enough, rough hands went tight around his throat; squeezed and forced on the bed, back and pinned. Eyes wide, watery blue with blunt nails digging into thick arms. Didn't bother. Gasped aloud, needing air; face full red.

Guy above him held him down, one hand still tight around his throat; fumbled to look in his pant pockets. Mox could see black spots; vision blurring slowly. Head hurt, needed to breathe; wanted to  _scream,_ tight gagging noises slipped out.

Everything went cold, Mox stopped struggling. Eyes went wide again, struggled harder under the guy. Saw the syringe, the liquid sloshing in it and  _knew._

And oh god, he wanted to be dead. Rather be beaten bloody, rather have a busted nose or more bloody knuckles. Anything but this, the dark feel in his stomach; the race of his heart. It all came back, those fifteen years ago. All with that simple syringe. 

_Speedball._

Capped ripped off, harshly stabbed on the side of the arm; Mox cried out. A choke. Felt the rush, high and strong; the bittersweet memories slowly oozing their way in. The pain of heartache all over again. Head clouded, mind spinning.

Wanted to laugh, laugh at the things they did; would he have still met Leakee? No. Not at all, wouldn't even be at that God awful brothel, they'd be gone; forever in love. Somewhere far away, fucking on cars and getting so high and drunk off stupid shit that didn't consider to be drugs or alcohol. 

Warm trickle from his nose, did he get punched? Maybe.

"This will be worth that fifty," the guy said. Grinned and pulled down his zipper, got his pants off.

Mox laid there, sagged and paralyzed. Couldn't move, heavy weight that wasn't even there kept him down; his heart slowed, disgusting taste in his mouth. Eyes lazily rolled. A ringing in his heart; the shift on the bed.

Hands rolled him, belly pressed to the bed once more. Naked, exposed; and no prep, no slow push.

Blood for lube, raw;  _dry._ If Mox wasn't drugged, he'd scream in pain. But what was pain for him, really? The forceful push of the guy's dick inside him, grunting and growling. Back heavily pushed with hands, skin white and red hot.

Felt sick, couldn't make a noise. Eyes red, tears fell; stared in a daze at the wall; melted slowly, rough thrusts from behind; skin slapping loudly. Hair pulled, shoved further into the pillow. Slumped and fucked bloody raw.

Eyes slowly slipped shut, and the nasty past came tumbling in; high giggles and sloppy kisses. It seems like it'd been forever.

* * *

**_Spring 2001_ **

"Always a good boy, Jonathan. Such a beautiful sight."

Sniffed, wiped at his eyes again. Snot stained his pillow with the tears; it  _hurt so fucking much._ Couldn't do shit about it, would get beaten for refusing. Foster Mommy never said a word, never stopped him.

Fingers teased at him, circled around and barely pushed in. Sharp hiccup, trembled and choked out a sob. The pull of a zipper and the hot, hard dick pressed against him; rubbed like the fingers did, precome smearing.

 A grunt, a huff of breath. Felt warmth splattering on his back, some against his his ass. Shuddered, a low chuckle. Never lasted long, maybe something was wrong with his dick. Mox always wanted to laugh at that.

He left, leaving Mox there with come stains and a sobbing mess. Quickly left his bed, went to shower; sneak out and go see  _him._ Always knew how to comfort each other, knew the pain and suffering they went through on the daily.

Scrubbed himself raw, hiccups and snot washing down passed his mouth with the spray of the water. When finished; pulled on some worn out clothes, slipped out the window and ran till his lungs ached; short of breath and heaving.

*

"Kissing  _boys_?! I'm not going to raise a  _faggot_ of a son in this house!"

Sobbed loud, crying out when the buckle of the belt smacked into his skin. Sickening thumps, tainting pale skin with raw marks. Tore some skin, another smack.

It hurt so much, thick hands tight around the leather as he got smacked some more. Screamed and kept sobbing, sucking lung fulls of air; the buckle branding his torn skin.

"If I see you with that boy again you're going to wish you were dead, Tyler." Authority in the voice, low and gruff. Sent chills, always in a sour mood.

Whipped bloody and hurting. Left alone in his room, sobbing still and hiccups out of control. Couldn't even talk right. Laid on his belly, sticky skin and wiped the snot away from his face. Trembled with every intake of the sob.

Swore they were secret about their relationship, never caught once. Hushed whispers on late school nights, snuck out and sneaked in. Quiet, muffled sex. Soft giggles and goodnight kisses; late stays of homework when really they just made out and watched cheesy horror movies.

So tired of this. Wanted  _him_ to hold, to cry with and run away with. His anchor. 

Gentle tap to his window, opened and heard movement. Light stumble and grunt, already knew. Didn't bother to look up, too hurt and sniffed; bloodshot eyes and a wet face. God he hurt so fucking bad.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ! The fuck happened with you?"

Still didn't bother to look up, pressed to the pillow; hair wild and whimpered softly and the shift on the bed, small movement; and gentle fingers in his tangled hair.

"Tyler, did he fuckin' do this? God I'm goin' to fucking kill him now. Jesus fuck--look at you! Oh man, I'm going to set his fuckin' balls on fire. I'm gonna--"

Was cut off quick by the slap to the face.

Tired face, covered with tears and smeared snot. Red rimmed eyes and strands of hair plastered to his face. Stared at blue, dark brown filled with pain.

"Just shut up, he knows. Somehow he found out, okay? He whipped me because of that, Mox. So maybe--so maybe we shouldn't be together. Because look at what I got for it,  _look._ You should leave, right now."

Roll of eyes, Mox pressed their foreheads together. 

"Four months may seem short for some, but it feels like a fuckin' lifetime for me. No one else for me, you're all I need with me, doll. So let's run, pack a bag and let's just  _go,_ " whispered Mox, petting at the younger's hair. 

"I can't--but, I--I can't just leave!"

"He's going to keep doin' this shit to you, man! You deal with these beatings an' I'm over here gettin' touched by a man I should be looking up to as a father."

Bitter laugh, looked at brown eyes; wide and scared. On and off relationships, too young to know love; too naive. Mox was always determined, always had his mind set on one thing at a time; Tyler Black just happened to be a goal set. 

Reckless behavior with these two, Tyler always got the end of the stick with a dark voice punishing him. Stole, public indecency, underage intoxication, ran away for a few days with Mox and got caught. Ever since he brought Jon fucking Moxley into his rich, bratty life; things turned quite upside down, loved the energy the blond gave, the witty words and attitude that came.

It wasn't love, but it was something. 

*

**_Valentine's Day, 2002_ **

"Fuckin'  _run_!"

They ran, lungs ached; bag of stolen wrestling tapes in one hand, held Tyler's in the other. Cops were chasing, and if he got caught; Regal was going to be pretty pissed. No one liked being woken up at three in the morning because your fucked up, reckless and relentless foster child decided to get drunk and steal shit with his boyfriend. 

They ran till the sirens went distant, another route. Slumped against the cement wall, breathed heavy and Mox began wheezing laughs, tossing the bag down and groaned. That was fucking fun.

"You're a fucking idiot," Tyler breathed, panting softly and crouched; hands on knees. "We could've been shot, Mox!"

Blond waved him off, roll of eyes. "You just don't know what fun is, baby boy. Gotta live a little, be reckless."

Smirked and went to the dark haired boy, cupping his face and kissed him slowly. Breathless kisses, a little sweaty; cool night made it feel sticky. Fingers tight in dark hair, press of hips and soft moans. Mox bit at a pale neck, sucked on skin; let old marks re appear. They loved claiming one another, it made them feel giddy. 

A small whine and grinds, Tyler's hand quickly fumbled with their pants, trying to get them undone. His other hand was tangled tight in Mox's dirty blond, greasy. God he could feel how hard they were, and even though they were still in the middle of a chase, it gave him such a rush to get fucked hard even more. 

He was starting to be more of a rebel with Mox.

"I don't--I don't have the shit with me," Mox mumbled, kissing the under jaw of Tyler's, breath hitched when the younger got a hand around both their dicks together. 

A nod, didn't want to be hurt. Liked being prepped and taken the time, hated raw burns. Instead, they did this; stroked together quietly, small push of the hips and soft moans. Whines and whimpers, sloppy kisses and the smear of come. Tried pulling Tyler as close as possible, biting his neck again, growling softly. 

The soft gasp, bit at Mox's neck too; kissed him rough, bruising lips later. Watched how their dicks slid together, the light squeeze and a low groan. Blue eyes met with dark brown, lust filled and cloudy.

"I love you, Jonathan Moxley." Breathy moan, the bite of his bottom lip, the cry of release. 

Soft kisses and arms wrapped around. Both each other's anchors. Felt nice, felt okay with him around.

*

Woken up around four-thirty in the morning, pissed because it was so early. And he swore the blond was locked in his room, locked for the sudden outbursts of anger he randomly got. 

Bursted through the doors of the police station, quiet and barely any movement around. Went to the front desk where one the same age, maybe, sat there.

"Piper?"

Looked up, grey eyes and a wide grin.

"Look who it is, the Father of the Year!"

A sigh, rolled his eyes and frowned. "I came to pick up Jonathan, I was told the imbecile was caught for...numerous things."

Piper stood, nodded and had Regal follow down the corridor and to only one cell occupied. Jonathan wasn't alone, another boy laid with his head in the blond's lap, curled up.

When blue eyes met the same pale ones, he cursed and smacked the back of his head against the wall. At the end of last year, taking in this one was a challenge for Regal, never had one like Jonathan; always started fight with the other kids be had for fostering, always out late. Did things he shouldn'tbe doing.

It was fascinating though, Regal was just as twisted like the blond. Lived a life like this before; though Mox was  _worse._

Twenty minutes later, out in the cool parking lot; Tyler holding Mox's hand quietly as Mox argued and let his voice rise. Hid a little behind the blond, how these two looked alike and fought verbally, knew he'd be slapped if he had ever talked to his dad this way.

"He can sleep in my room, Regal!  _Please!_ " Begged to bring the dark haired boy with him, talking like keeping a puppy.

"No."

Followed after him to the car and frowned. "Why the fuck not?! You have plenty of room! It's not fair, maybe if you got that stick outta your ass--"

The back hand of a slap, the prickled of skin rising and the soft gasp from Tyler. Hid a little more, fingers squeezed Mox's own.

It wasn't said, but the final word had been spoke; no.

Though Mox wasn't going to be shut down that fast, he always argued till he won; never game up quick, a hard head and dirty mouth. Tyler had seen how this one reacted to the word no.

"His dad beats him!" Mox screamed, Tyler flinching. "He gets beaten because  _I love him,_ buckle of a belt an' hits him hard enough where he bleeds!"

Grabbed the dark haired boy and shoved the shirt up, exposed deep lashings. Scars and new torn skin; Mox tried getting the younger to run with him that year ago, refused and got the beatings when caught with Mox.

"Bloody hell," whispered Regal, seeing the nasty marks and Tyler shivering, sniffing. "Your father  _did this to you?_ "

"He ain't the only one who's had a beautiful life," Mox sneered.

*

They snuck out, slipped out the window of Regal's, found a rounchy hotel and fucked. Shared whispers of love, far far too close. And cried softly at the pain they shared. 

After, Tyler rolled over and dug into his bag; pulled out a syringe and grinned wickedly at Mox. Straddled naked hips and looked down.

"Who needs chocolates and roses when you and I have each other? Happy Valentine's Day, baby."

Was a little too much; speedball, but oh fuck it. The stronger the high, the better. Mox smirked lazily up at the dark hair boy, rubbing his thighs and watched him give a long shoot; hearing a soft sigh.

Took his dose, groaned at the feel and watched the room melt around; got numb and the buzz ringing in his head. Lazy kisses and light touches. Only needed this kid with him, fuck everyone else; their love was different, they looked out for each other; soulmates. 

And when Tyler didn't wake up, sagged and curled on the bed, well maybe Mox didn't cry. Tightness in his throat, piece of his heart gone; the dull headache long forgotten. Let his fingers curl into dark hair, prick of tears at the corners. 

God they were so stupid. Every planned future for them was now gone, forever lived in a body that no longer had a heart fluttering; because time was still going, wasn't like those movies or whatever the hell that said time stopped for something certain.

Time kept going, people lived their lives. Children laughed, someone was born, someone fell in love or got their heart broken. People were having sex; time didn't stop for just one person who shot up and didn't wake up.

Mox choked out a sob, crying out now; feeling the pain. Because why did this shit happen to them? Would he ever find someone worth the pain, again? Or maybe someone who would be the better for him, because surely he was the destruction of Tyler Black.

Held the limp body in his arms and buried his face into the crook of Tyler's neck, sobbing and gripping tight. Rocked lightly on the bed, syringe long forgotten. What would Regal say? How fucked up he was, how everything and everyone got a deathly swallow of a pill that Mox was, he destroyed shit too fast.

Pain left a hole so deep, black and cold; a empty part where Mox's heart should have been.


	11. an appetite for sin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the fluffliest chapter, and most likely the only one.  
> Anyways, next chapter Mox is back to fighting and all, school has started here in my town since Monday so Leakee is back to teaching too.  
> Their little wedding vacation is over. So yeah.  
> As always, thank you guys so much~

* * *

_i've been so far gone for so long,_

_and i can't keep my head up off the bottom._

_holy fuck, why do i bother,_

_i'm never gonna get any better._

_i've waited so long to declare, "i don't give a fuck if i die today,"_

_holy shit, i've lost my mind._

_reality is starting to unwind,_

_don't pray for me._

* * *

Woke up with a gasp, coughing fits; vomit on the bed, vomit on his naked body. Trembled, a headache. Eyes watery, got up quick to the bathroom; couldn't hold the rest of the vomit, splattering stained white tile and toilet bowl. Fell on his knees with a low groan, sweaty and disgusting. Pain everywhere and head still throbbing. Needed a high, or smoke.

Managed to get himself up, starting the bath; and slumped again. Naked, cold; worn out. By himself, had seen the other crumpled fifty; wanted to smash that guy's face, was so stupid. He sighed and watched the water rush out. Wanted to scrub himself raw, red skin and clean.

Shakily stood, wobbly legs and sour taste of vomit left in his mouth. Dry, and chapped lips; knew his breath stank bad now. Got in the slightly molded tub, sat himself down and pulled his kees to his chest, curled and shivered. Cool water surrounded him, let the tub fill.

Light red flowed gently through the water, a pink hue between his thighs. Still bleeding a little; hoped he didn't have a tear, would hate to go to the hospital, hated that fucking place. Hands trembled, knuckles ached; badly bruised and blotchy.

Watched the hue of pink slither around him, seemed like too much. Knuckles kept throbbing, pulsing and raw. Squeezed his eyes shut, growling. Wanted to throw up again, wanted to punch another mirror. But God, did he want large arms and a warm smile for him; wanted Leakee here.

Pulled at hair, growling again. Coughed, gagged; forced sobs, trembling fingers in blond hair; wanted to scream.

Sobbed some more, wiping snot with the back of his hand; hiccup of breath, shaky cries. Red rimmed eyes, sore body; ass in pain with pressure of sitting. Ripped the chain off his neck, tossed it outside the tub somewhere, pushed shaggy hair out of his face.

Turned the faucet off, switched to the shower head on. Sprayed on pale, scarred skin; rained down. No shitty water pressure like some raunchy hotels. Used the small sample of soap bar; scrubbed, lathered and hissed at the touch of suds and torn skin.

Standing now, blood sliding in slow motion down scarred thighs and muscled calves.

Tiny bottles emptied, greasy hair washed in; scrubbed and scrubbed, scalp getting raw and tender. Dazed, staring at molded walls; stains and cracks, let nails scrape over skin; touched the patch of skin ripped from the tattoo that used to be inked.

Closed his eyes, thought about bitter love. The pain; the fights he did after Tyler was gone, beat them bloody for the anger he had. Regal enjoyed that side of him, big cash.

After the shower, standing dripping wet on sticky carpet; nude and searched the pockets of his pants for his phone. Grunted, needed to wrap the knuckles again. Sighed, pushed hair back over and over again. Found the phone, flipped it open to ten un-responded messages and calls missed, voice mails in.

_Jon pls come back.._

_i"m sorry Jon._

_Pick up your phone pls..._

_just pls tell me ur okay._

And so on, they went and went. Blurred by tears, Mox erasing them all. Not bothered to read them, wanted him to suffer; had to suffer himself. No, Leakee brought this upon himself though. That bitch, it was her fault. All of it.

Checked the voice mails. 

Robotic voice telling him, scratchy end; the gentle voice of Leakee's with hurt and begging. The hard sigh.

_"Hey baby," he sorta slurred, "I'm sorry, okay?"_ Click.

The next one.

_"I just, um...please come back. I'm sorry for what I said," he mumbled, sighing. "Just--just answer your phone, tell me where you're at. I'll go get you, I'm sorry..."_

Click. And the next.

  _"I'm such an asshole...I didn't--I didn't mean that, baby. I'm so fucking sorry, Jon. Please, please answer. I'm getting worried, I don't know what to do! You're not answering, and I'm feeling sick right now; just please call me back, at least let me know you're okay. Oh god, I'm so sorry baby. I love you, Jon. Okay? I love--I love you..."_

Click.  _I love you._ Was it the alcohol talking? The guilt? Mox sighed, eyes squeezed shut again. Hands trembled, tight around the small flip phone. A spark, maybe; felt something for Leakee. Scared to put pain on him, already had the first night they fucking met. 

Did Mox really want to add the weight of pain and guilt on Leakee? To himself? Of course not, he wasn't fucking sixteen or seventeen anymore, nor was this a fucking fairytale for them.

Never was. Couldn't be, that's not how it worked.

Mox slipped the dress pants back on, no underwear or shirt--being ripped--and sat on the bed; wincing. Flipped his phone open, checked the time. Close to three in the morning; hopefully Leakee was awake.

Pressed the green button, sighed softly. Pulled at thread on the comforter, let it ring and ring; head throbbing. Kept ringing.

Picked up on the fourth ring, light haze in his voice; seemed alert then. "J--Jon?"

* * *

Didn't feel like being around after their argument, went back to his parent's rent home. Kept calling, never got an answer. Too worried to sleep, left voice mails and texts; called and called. Angry at himself, was such an asshole. Stayed up in his room, decided to write for a little bit.

She tried coming on him, after taking those rancid shots with his cousins. Said no, didn't want her. Never really did, just lonely. Wanted Mox, just Mox and only Mox.

In scratchy, chalky scrawl:

_TITLE: ???_

_How does love work? At first sight?_

_Well let me tell you; it's something in that way. I didn't intend to fall in love with a prostitute, broken and wild. Filthy mouth, dimples big and beautiful. A mess. The instant I saw him, icy blue; I knew I wanted to stay. I wanted to hang around and know about this interesting creature. You see, love doesn't happen with rainbows and warm sunshine, love happens when you're lonely. Disagree with me, I don't care. It didn't start out slow, dates where us sucking each other off and talked about how many men he slept with; those were our dates._

_I don't agree to what he does, it's his life. I'm just renting. Maybe I'll stay around longer, that's if he's willing. He let's his body be destroyed, he holds himself. Determined. I've seen a side, a beautiful angry side of him; a hurt part. He's loved before, I never have; I've been lonely, there's a difference. He's loved enough, enough where he was the destruction; dark smoke inside that prizefighting body of his. And maybe he needs a little push._

Falling asleep, pen leaving small scribbles on the paper with every doze. Grunted softly at the feel of vibrating against his thigh. Rubbed his eyes, sighed. Struggled to take his phone out, huffing softly; seeing the name, he quickly sat up more.

Answered on the fourth ring. "J--Jon?" Swell of his heart, relief.  _He's okay..._

Small chuckle, breathy. Heard a shift, a sigh. "I'm at this dirty ass hotel. Hillcrest, can take a cab back to your folks' place." A suggestion. 

"No, just stay there. I'll go get you, alright?"

A hum. "Yeah, okay." Hung up. Leakee sighed, he was still upset. Quietly closed his phone himself, tossed it aside. Grabbed his pen, scribbled a final title underneath the words, scratchy and quick.

_TITLE: SELF-DESTRUCTION IS SUCH A PRETTY LITTLE THING._  

*

Drove to the motel, raunchy thing in the bad part of the city. Few rooms it held, didn't need to look; saw wild blond, shoulder length and bumming a cigarette from a junkie. Shirtless body, dirty slacks; bloody knuckles wrapped haphazardly, open room behind him.

Sighed and parked the truck, got off. He walked over to Mox, biting at his lip and sighed again; a forming smirk on the blond. Blew some smoke out quietly, stood and winced. Careful, gentle hands slowly cupped Mox's face, thumbs rubbing cheekbones.

"I'm so s--"

Cut off, blew more smoke; pulled away from Leakee. 

"Don't." Grabbed Leakee's hand, fingers curled together; pulled him quietly in to the room, cold place and filthy carpet. Messy bed, vomit on the bed and carpet; some splattered on the already stained tile and toilet bowl. 

Mox finished his cigarette, looked back at Leakee. 

"Don't you ever treat me like that again," he said, a tinge of hurt and sharpness to the words. "You do that shit to me another time, and I'll fuckin' slug you."

A quiet nod. Blond head against his chest, grunt. Kissed the top of his head slowly, low value of shampoo; hotel stock. Large arms around a broken body, held him close. Still felt like an asshole, felt like he let Mox down; which he did. Ended up here now, instead of drunk sex in a warm bed; arms holding each other. 

Mox hid his face in Leakee's neck, junction of thick shoulder blade. Breathed in this scent, warm; welcoming. Almost like home. His own home sweet home, Leakee is. Sighed, decided to tell now than wait; seemed like the right time, wasn't it? 

Pulling back, blue eyes stared up at soft brown.

"I came here for sex, you pissed me off," Mox explained, playing with the hem of Leakee's shirt. "I asked for a hundred, he gave me a fifty. I'm not fuckin' cheap, I know my goddamn worth."

Sat at the foot of the bed now, Leakee standing still; between his legs almost, watching. Listening. 

"He got a little rough...hit me with a Speedball. Then he--he raped me." Blunt, quick. 

Brown eyes widen, shifted. Blinked, getting red. Watched him, blue eyes staying focused. Leakee let a hand rub over his face, blinked tears away. Brown, watery red eyes looked down at him; followed by the slow movement of getting to his knees. Between thighs, big hands on the tops.

Choked on a sob, didn't sound like one. More like a cough, stuck or a laugh. Didn't look like his usual attractive self. Mox didn't move, didn't speak. Kept staring, how tan hands curled to fists; face buried in his lap, mumbled. His heart swelled again, stomach churned; felt sick all over again.

"Hey, look at me." Hands gingerly rubbed a muscled back, kissed the crown of his head. "C'mon, doll..."

Red faced, eyes swollen. Red. Leakee sniffed, looked at Mox quietly. Sad smile. Hair pulled from the neat bun he had.

"I love you," Leakee breathed, more like a broken whisper with a heavy intake of breath from the raw sobs. "I love you, Jonathan Moxley."

And they hit so hard, those raw words. The same ones Tyler told him, running from the law; young and reckless. This wasn't a fairytale, couldn't be; he couldn't get happy endings with Leakee. No matter how safe and needed he felt, things weren't going to be sunshine and rainbows for them. And Mox didn't want to lose another important person that's wanting to worm his way into a fucked up life.

"You're my home sweet home, doll."

It was the closest to an  _I love you too_ Leakee was going to get, but that was okay.

* * *

Drive back was quiet, cold leather against pale skin; soft tunes on the radio. Leakee wanted to touch, hold Mox. Wasn't sure if he was allowed to after what the blond told him; and he hated himself even more, being an asshole towards him won Mox into getting raped by a stranger. 

How was he supposed to help Mox out on this situation? Take him to a counselor? Call the cops? No, prostitution would get Mox put away for a few days. Talk to him about it? Mox didn't seem the type to talk about feelings and cry it out. Leakee really wasn't either. 

Too lost in thought, thinking silently in his mind. Voices arguing. Didn't hear the first time till a hand slapped his arm so rough. Mox. 

"Fucking  _hell!_ "

"What?"

Tires screeched to a stop; did he run over something? A little vacant drop, run down bar; few outside, laughing and smoking. Gathered together, neon lights and loud music.

Mox stared from the window, frowning. Shivered, knew that face; remembers the lips and hands, around his neck and shooting a Speedball inside him. God he was so stupid. Growled and smacked the dashboard. 

"It's  _him._ The one who fuckin' drugged me, raped me."

Leakee winced at the bluntness and carelessness of the way Mox spoke about his incident. But the anger bubbled quick, the rage of someone putting filthy hands on Mox. The blond opened the truck door, buzzing with  _something._ Fingers curled over and over, tight and trembling. 

"Which one?" Leakee quietly asked, voice rough; seething almost. 

Mox stared at the bigger man, brown eyes still watery; large hands tight around the steering wheel. Kept eyes on the small group, heat building. Really, this wasn't his fight.

"That one," the blond finally said, pointed at the center of them; glassy eyes and loose grins. Heads thrown back in laughs, swayed. Seemed easy to take on. "Just him though."

Slammed the door shut, behemoth of a thing; walked around glossy black. Fists tight, across the street and straight to the one who tainted  _his_ Mox. Eyes hard, frown; body buzzing of heat; the need. Is this how Mox feels before a fight? 

Watching, Mox drummed his fingers on his thigh; couldn't keep still. Other hand let his fingers pull at blond, leg jiggling up and down. Hummed, the way he talked to the group, laughed and then shoved. Sat up straight with a grin, watched; bit at his bottom lip, Leakee decking the guy who touched him sinfully. Two others came after. 

Growled. The two began beating the back of Leakee, wearing him out. Mox growled louder, shoved himself out of the truck. Fast walked to the small brawl, fists tight and knuckles throbbing; scowling and teeth gritting. Drunken hands in loose fists; smacking the back of the head, pulled at fabric. 

Mox grabbed the one who ruined him for a night, broke open walls that were meant to be held up; to keep the poison away, the bittersweet memories. Grabbed a fistful of hair, grinned.

"Hey, doll. Remember me?"

Crazed eye look, wide and stating. Pointed, slurred. Mox didn't give him time; reared a fist back, smacked a jaw, punched his way to a nose. A crack, the splash of blood. Knew he'd tear open the barely healing skin of his bloody knuckles; dried blood now running down a hand.

Somewhere in to the beating, the guy gave a swing. A fist hitting him right on the nose, heard a crunch. As much as it hurt, Mox ignored the blooming pain; blood running pass his lips and licked with a smile, so dark and taunting. 

Forgot about Leakee. 

God it felt good to beat on someone, the rush of anger smacking into a face; beating and beating, red stained on the pavement. The groan, a crowd watching. Missed the fights now, two long fucking weeks of no cages, no chants and no money. Mox laughed darkly, nails clawing in and pulling hair. Couldn't tell who was loosing the most blood.

Hands pulled him away, placed on his chest. Heavy breathing, bloody hands. Pushed them through hair, stained and smeared on his face. Blue looked up to brown, hard and angry. Small hit to his eye; Leakee looked to be fine other than that.

"They say I wouldn't last a day in the real world, I say you wouldn't survive one night in mine," Mox said, grinning darkly at Leakee. Nose bleeding, teeth stained with red and giving a bitter laugh.

Small smile from the bigger man, eye swelling and lip busted. Kissed the blond, blood mixing; bloody fingers in dark hair. And maybe, Mox thought, we'll be alright. 


	12. what a perfect way to ruin this day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, I am so sorry for just disappearing.  
> I wanted to update so bad; just never had the time or creativity.   
> So I finally came back from the grave; really short but still.  
> I'm going to try really hard to update more now, because I feel like I let you guys down.  
> So, well, here's this. I'm really scared on how this little thing is going to turn out because like I said; this fic isn't going to be a fairytale. 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy and thank you guys so much for being patient with me.

* * *

_one bullet in the back of my head,_

_and it came from the bottom of your heart._

_you couldn't find the words to tell me,_

_so you went and found some bullets and shot me._

_what better than the kiss of a 9mm,_

_to promote the heartbreak?_

* * *

He's standing at the front of his desk, leaned so casual. Hair tied back neatly, ironed pants and nice shirt; taking in every student he has, slouched in desks and ready to sleep. They yawn, they whisper, they  _look._ He's their wet dream, a squirm in the seat and the light blush, eyes staying down. New faces, new lessons.

Takes a deep breath, let's it out. Smiles, straightens up.

"So...let me introduce myself."

Forty-five minutes of talk. Life, home, likes and dislikes, worst fear. Everything. Now, he's sitting alone in his classroom; next class soon to come after lunch. He's tired, yawns; sighs. Hasn't seen blond and blue eyes in over a week; wondering how _he's_ started his week after the vacation. 

Picks at the food he ordered out. Thinks and thinks.

Thinks if they are still a  _thing;_ a odd couple. Unhealthy one at that, hardly communicates, outbursts of anger. Whores around. Raped too. Rolls his eyes at the thought, shakes his head; still feels like an asshole for that.

Maybe they were done. He quietly shuts the take out container, tosses it in the small trash bin. Sighs again. Sits back in the leather chair and thinks again. Spaces out, doesn't hear the voices and laughter of high school students walking in.

They stare again, new faces. They gawk, whisper some more;  _so dreamy._

_He's a babe!_

_Right? Wonder if he's good in bed..._

_Maybe I_ am  _gay..._

They quiet after the late bell; sitting and waiting. Brown eyes flicker around, still a bit spacey. Raises an eyebrow and smiles slowly. 

"Good afternoon," he greets. Hears a soft sigh somewhere, small grunt.

* * *

He's smacked into the iron bars, the cheering is lost. Everything is a blur, his body aches. There's a ringing in his ear, high and wailing; his face is drenched in blood, his upper torso is just as decorated with red. Sweat and blond strands in his eyes, he's breathing heavy. He's buzzing with the high.

Another hit to the stomach, growls and hits back. Bloody knuckles smack into bone, white tape smeared in dark red. Peeling and exposing blues and purples on ripped skin.

Beating and beating. Fists tight, hits hard enough to hear cracks and pops. Remembers the asshole who destroyed him in the worst way possible, killed him in a way he'd never want to go through again; feels the heat, the swelling range build up.

The cheers grow louder too with every strike, every smack and hit. Bars rattle, claps and whistles. Drenched in blood and sweat, he missed this. Missed every bit of pain flowing through his aching and self-destroyed body.

He's forgotten everything at the moment. 

He's stopped thinking of a sunshine smile, of warm hugs and a voice so deep and gentle. He's not thinking of the way he was brutally ruined that night, left with a bigger hole in his heart; how more ruined he is, how someone like Leakee could still want something so disgusting like him.

There's a tight grip on his arm, pulling. He's dragged off a sweaty, bloody body of a heaping mess. Growls and scratches, tacky smears of blood; burn of sweat and red in his eyes. The cheers get louder, green is thrown around; wrinkled paper of dirty hands.

Raised up, hand in the air; gripped tight.

"Division winner of Rank 13: Jon Moxley."

Yanks his hand away, stumbles his way to the stalls. Handfuls of cash, wipes his face with the bills; he's glistening. Sighs.

Showers, scrubs dirt off. Watches blood wash off his body; scars and new collections. Brown and red, clear slowly. Scrubs some more, body thrumming on the high; the aches creeping in. Bruises blooming, cuts stinging. His head hurts, closes his eyes and sighs again. 

He figures Leakee is back to school; somewhere their summer was over for those little shits. Sit there, learn nothing; have problems in the real world. Mox hated it, hated sitting there in a room, had to think and solve nonsense. It wasn't for him. 

The shower shuts off, a towel is thrown at him. Eyes open--half swollen from a few hits, throbbing lightly--looks up to see Regal. Grunts, dries his face first. Winced at the pain.

"I hope you've learned your lesson to just up and leave, Jonathan." It's cold, whipped and clipped. Even though he's smiling, the fucking asshole. 

Didn't bother to peep about the incident, no point. He could hear Regal already with that smug expression and smug tone.  _Well, you probably asked for it with that dirty mouth of yours._

* * *

He's tired, everything hurts like always. Needs another high, another fucking nap. Stay dead for awhile.

The bed squeaks, familiar rough burn. Slammed, bruises on hips by tight hands. It's all coming back; choked and drugged, fucked bloody and raw, vomiting on everything. He grunts with a hit to his ass, hard hips and the loud groan from above. Rolls his eyes, feels the painful pull out of latex and lube.

Elvis Presley's  _Burning Love_ playing in the background for the most worst timing; shitty little radio he found at a garage sale two days ago. Crumpled bills are tossed at his head, slowly sags into the mattress. Rolls onto his back, sits up to look for shorts or jeans. 

Mox has barely enough time to slip unwashed jeans on when the door is knocked and opened. He doesn't look, doesn't bother; he instead freezes on spot, looking for a smoke, hears a voice he hadn't heard in  _years._

"Honey, I'm home." It's playful, a smirk on lips. He's probably leaned against the open doorway, arms crossed and looking like sex on legs; well, that's what Mox believed being more heavy in drugs when he was younger.

"God,  _look at you._ Still gorgeous as ever, but you're just a fucking skeleton now," he adds. Always remembered this fucking idiot never  _shut the hell up._ Ran his mouth more than Mox ever did.

Still, he never turns. He doesn't want to look, doesn't want to see the face that destroyed him after Tyler; brought him down a path of hell he's never wanted to be in again. Found his home at the bottom of a bottle every night, tried desperately to take any hard drug;  _to fucking end the worthless sonofabitch he was._

But it never happened. He self-destroyed himself over and over again; Regal oh so close to just leaving him to die somewhere in an alley. Somewhere down that road of hell, Mox believed he found love with this man; lied to himself that this was happiness for him, blissful and sinfully good.

Being young, naive and head over bloody knuckles for this older man. He brought out a new side of Mox that the blond never knew he had.

Smoke between his lips, he lights the stick silently. Blows lightly, still doesn't face the visitor. 

"What the fuck do you want?" 

There's a teasing laugh, shakes his head; dark hair, light stripe of pink at the top. Dark eyes watch, stare at scars on Mox's back.

"How the hell did you even find me? Huh? Decided to strangle some innocent whores again?" Mox keeps asking, blowing smoke out after a long drag. Stares at the wall, head pounding. 

"Saw your fight," is the explanation. "Regal, is his name? Yeah, I asked about you. Way he said, you haven't changed one bit Moxley."

Now he turns, now he looks. Dark eyes meet painful blue. And God fucking damnit does Mox rather have Leakee here, asking about his week like it's so normal. Talking to him about the students he has to teach, the ones who don't listen or pretends to; instead just daydreaming little wet thoughts.

"Decided to just...ah, you know," he keeps on, shrugging and smiling a little dark. "See what you're up to. It's been awhile."

He stares at Jimmy Jacobs, glaring more like it. Takes a longer drag of his cigarette, hands trembling. He's not scared, that's not his thing for him. It's what the memories this man still holds, the shit they did and what Mox went through  _for him._

"And, well, I've missed you. Still love me?"


	13. bite your lip and fake it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there's something. Heh heh heh.  
> Thank you guys again.♡♡

* * *

_you're sleeping far too close to the edge,_

_you're gonna fall into the end._

_one last kiss to say goodbye, one last moment to show you love me._

_oh please, let me hold your hand. let me try and take it all away,_

_let me be your hero, and look cancer in the eye._

* * *

"Keep him the  _fuck_ away from me."

He's seething, like a caged tiger in a circus. Beaten and mistreated, works for the food; pacing back and forth, ready to strike at any given moment. Fists tight, staring at a plush carpet; he wants to smash all the glass on Regal's desk.

Wants that fucking bastard of Jimmy to stay the fuck away from him. Why the hell, after all these years, does he come by now? Mox didn't want to know, doesn't  _care._ Doesn't need more shit piled on, doesn't need more pain.

"I don't have time for your miserable life at the moment, Jonathan."

Regal isn't even looking at him. Glasses lightly perched at the bridge of his nose, looking at thin piles of paper. Mox fumes more, growls and kicks a chair. It goes stumbling, the possible crack of a leg.

Gets Regal's attention though. 

"I said keep him  _away,_ " Mox breathes. His hands are trembling, he needs another high soon.

"That mouth of yours has gotten you in much trouble, boy. I suggest you watch what you say to me, or your next match won't be as high and victorious as they have been," Regal coldly said, each word having an icy burn to Mox. The older is smiling a little nasty, upper lip of a scar curled up. "Now get the hell out."

Mox does. He's out, kicking furniture around; he's getting stares, fights on eyes. Doesn't even see who he's shoving till large hands grab him, ready to turn and punch. Ready to hit and scream, to  _let it all out_ on anyone getting in his way.

He looks up to brown eyes; wide and unsure.  _You're here._

It feels like everything calms, and Mox is stupid to think about this sort of shit. He's not sixteen anymore. The pain in his head is blooming, the pain in his body is throbbing. Warms hands squeeze his arms, gentle. He's stupid to think he feels safe, in warm hands; he's never felt what home was.

Maybe this was home for him; brown eyes, a sunshine smile and a voice of soothing on the worst of gray days.

"You good?" he whispers, gentle thumb brushing on a yellowing bruise, cheekbone and scars.

He can say,  _yes. I'm fine, get the hell away from me. I've been fine for a week without you._

Instead, he shakes his head.

"No."

* * *

Leakee is moving into him slow, quiet. They stare at each other, it's not awkward; it's not weird. He's doing this gentle shit Mox still can't get used to. Light fingertips brush over scars, bloomed bruises and harsh red scratches. 

One hand is cradling the back of Mox's head; fingers tangled in greasy hair, it almost looks damp. He's sore, the old feeling of a burn inside; but this burn, this burn is fine. The blond isn't a noisy one, didn't have to fake; no one cared if he made pleasureable noises or not.

So he doesn't make a noise really, light hitches of breath. Small creaks of the bed with every slow move of Leakee in him, he's laying on the wet spot from earlier; isn't sure if it's from sweat or come.

He gets a kiss here and there, the bite of his bottom lip. And he wonders, how the hell this man keeps coming back. Mox didn't want to bother himself, didn't think after being raped and threw a ugly tantrum like that would have Leakee here; back in his bed, holding him in a gentle way he never knew could be possible. 

_Loving him._

They come a little at the same time; there's a kiss shared. Brown, loving eyes stare at him; soft huffs of breath, softness of his tummy rising up and down. 

Mox realizes he's still the skinny little twig he was with Tyler, with Jimmy; no muscle formed like Leakee's, little flab on his mid-section, tiny waist they all loved to grab on to when fucking him.

He's a quick thing, hits hard enough to break. Knows every move he's learned on his own; been helped around a few times by Regal's old buddies. Though, it'd be really nice to pack some muscle into his body; it'd help, he thinks.

Shrugs, looks at brown eyes again.

"Missed you." It's soft, fallen from a soft breath by Leakee. Hovering, pulled out. Sticky, sweaty. Legs still spread around a tan body. Cool air between thighs. "I, uh, do you wanna talk about it?"

"You think I wanna talk about my feelin's with your dick just inside me? No, don't wanna talk about anythin'."

"Seemed upset."

Blue eyes look up, stare. He snorts, shifts till he's on knees; looking for a smoke, looking for a baggie. Needs a fix, a good one; he hurts. Still sore, still bruised.

Doesn't want to talk about it. Doesn't need to. Feels like he should, his head hurts from thinking too much. He sighs. Rough skin, thick scabs on knuckles; little red rimmed. Mox lights a smoke, looks over at Leakee; sees the man wanting to pick him apart, to  _help_ when he really doesn't need the pity party.

"You ever gonna let me read yer' stories you had writin'?"

It's a random question, anything to keep from speaking about that fucking bastard. 

There's a shrug, a sigh. The older shifts too, gets quite comfortable; rubs one of Mox's scarred thighs with his index finger, feels the roughness.

"Possibly," is the answer. And Mox takes it. 

* * *

He feels good.

He's fine, they're both fine.

Leakee wants to believe it. It's bullshit, always is; Mox is just too fucking stubborn to get help, too fucking wrecked to even count on someone to be there for him.

But still. They're okay.

The next customer is impatiently waiting outside the door, gives a nasty look to brown eyes. Raises an eyebrow, challenges. Doesn't care, isn't one for fighting. Remembers just how well he got the sweet, sweet and bitter revenge for Mox on that ugly night.

Leakee moves aside, let's this filthy fuck go in and wreck more of Mox. Shakes his head. He's greeted with light smiles, the bleach blond who calls himself "gorgeous" the times he's around; the bigger one always around at his side. Sees the one with raven hair, dark eye makeup; she smiles.

Escorts, darling thighs with dirty hands placed upon. Red smiles, shiny lips; short dresses, looks of danger. They talk, they laugh, they touch. He sometimes wonder if blue eyes and dimples do this, or if he's always in his room getting fucked out raw. Rather to not think of it, already has to deal with his goddamn boyfriend giving up his body in blood and sex.

There's a soft clear of throat. Down the foot of stairs, close to the lobby area, about to leave; remembers the papers he has to grade. School is about to whip his ass once more.

Leakee turns and sees Regal. All pristine, no wrinkles in that dressy outfit, tight lipped and head tipped back. Looks at him with disgust, thinks if this is how Mox is looked at all the time. There's a tilt of the head, directed to an open room.

It's clean, all glass and plush; no family photos, no personal things Leakee can see. Just, odd. The door is closed, soft click; chill, small. He waits, watches Regal; odd man, can maybe see what Mox hates about him.

"Drink?"

Leakee shakes his head; quiet, stiff. Doesn't want time wasted, really needs to grade those papers.

Regal makes a humble noise, shrugs; pours his own drink, amber and dark. Sighs.

"Jonathan is a problem, has been since the day I brought him home. Perhaps the worst of worst before I got him." Regal shrugs. "Did he tell you, about the boy he destroyed? Overdosed on pills, just teeny sixteen!"

Leakee sighs. Really doesn't want to hear it again, he gets it. He gets the pain, the loneliness. He just doesn't care now, doesn't care what Mox did before; it was his life. It's not like he was goody-too perfect himself. 

But Regal continues. 

"You know, Jonathan is a great fighter. Savage, bloody and  _raw._ You haven't seen one of his fights, have you? Good Lord. He's a magnificent thing, you see." Takes another drink, pale eyes watch Leakee with this look; a look of something, like a  _I know something you don't._ "And since the day you've walked through those double doors, he's not the same."

Leakee snorts. "Seems okay to me."

"Don't get too attached, boy. Jonathan is sin and self-destructive; he doesn't like to be lonely, he's full of things you don't want to get yourself into. A broken thing that is far too damaged to be fixed, too many pieces have been lost," Regal says, fingertips running lightly over the rim of the cup. "He's taken a life he supposed he loved, do you want to be the next one? Of course not."

"I know a little something of pain and misery, and loneliness. Look, he's not the most perfect being," Leakee snaps, "and he may have already lost his innocence. Having a hole so huge where that heart is supposed to be, but hell...I'm willing to be patient with him, I'm willing to  _care._ "

_Something you don't show for him._

Regal stares, a glint of a mocking smile.

"And let's see who will destroy who the most."


	14. you never said goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you might have been wondering why Mox can't just leave Regal since he's, ya know he's a grown up and shit.  
> This chapter sorta explains it; in the next chapter it'll be explained way more.  
> What a fairytale, huh?
> 
> And just a reminder; this whole fic is inspired by Asking Alexandria's "The Death of Me." But here ya go, enjoy ~

* * *

_spilling every lie you've spilled before,_

_still i'm not forgiving you._

_what's happened between us?_

_what can i give to save us?_

_being righteous isn't quite enough,_

_what's happened between us?_

_what can i give to save me?_

_these oceans are far between our hearts,_

_the breathing has got too hard._

* * *

_The truth we have is none of us are perfect, none of us are easy. We have our own ways of dealing with things; how we deal with pain, love, happiness. There's things we won't like about a person, but isn't that how opposites attract? For the past five months, I've seen a man on the verge of self-destruction; I've seen things about him, how he copes with pain, how he works his attitude around others. Maybe that's what I love, or like the most. His way of doing things differently than I'm used to doing. He doesn't judge so quick, he listens; he understands. Been through more shit than I have. My soul doesn't look for a mate, my soul hates to be alone. I'm a lonely person, been one for awhile now. But the fire with Jon, the company I have with him shows me he's just as lonely. It's this small flicker of flame, ready to spread in a forest; to destroy and leave a beautiful disaster, to show what it's capable of doing. I guess that's the thing we have, a small flame._

_He's changed my view._

He lightly flinches when the bell rings; loud and shrill.

Tells the leaving class about their papers. Barely listen, too lost in conversations of parties and plans. Room is empty, stares at the short story he's got going on, choppy writing. Sighs and leans back in his chair.

A light tap brings his attention to the entry of his classroom. Tall, dark and boyish stare at him.

Light smile, leans against the doorway. Weird, pink stripe on dark hair. Leakee raises an eyebrow, welcomes the newcomer in.

"Busy?"

Shakes his head no, still leaned way back in leather.

"Seriously man, tell me how you get through days without wanting to murder these kids," tall, dark and boyish says, eyes rolling and perching himself on wood surface. 

 He chuckles, sitting up. Shrugs and twirls a pen.

"Still do. But uh, I've gotten used to them." Sighs. "Sometimes my patience wears really thin. Guess you just gotta be an asshole half the time."

Tall, dark and boyish is new. The start of school; took over after one of the teachers got fed up, left and wasn't heard from. Leakee got comfortable with this guy, mysterious little aurora he had going on; seemed to vibe on things they enjoyed.

They talked a lot before and after, sometimes in the middle of school hours when they weren't teaching or needed for breakfast hour. Leakee enjoyed the company once and awhile, someone to talk to.

"Writing again? Something new, huh?" He didn't ask to read, still reaches over and grabs the ink smeared paper; reads quietly. 

He thinks too much of bruises and dimples, greasy hair and blue eyes; smiles lightly at the slight fond moment of their play date in the bed. Maybe, just maybe they'd be alright. 

"Nothin' big, just a small draft I guess," Leakee explains, shrugs. Brown eyes watching expression after expression on tall, dark and boyish. "Really like this one more, though."

Paper is placed back, cut eyebrow raised.

"Jon, huh? I used to have someone named Jon; he was beautifully broken. Tried to fix him, but he never wanted to be fixed." He stares off at the wall behind Leakee, remembering Moxley. 

Leakee snorted softly. "Yeah, mine is sorta like that. Good guy, though. Maybe you can meet him one day." He sets the paper under a small stack. "Jon Moxley. He's uh, he's something--"

"--you never thought of starting a flame with? The way he holds himself up, stubborn boy and thinks he doesn't need anyone but deep down he craves the affection of someone to  _care and love for him._ But really, you just destroy him more than you think you can save him from the destruction."

Leakee is staring at him, blinking with eyebrows pressed together. Confused. Tall, dark and boyish gives a tight smile.

"Sorry, got a little out of mind with a person I used to be with."

"Your Jon?" 

Jimmy Jacobs nods, stands. He gives a breathy laugh, looks around the classroom and then back at Leakee. And God how could he not know? He's stupid, to know; to know that Leakee has been fucking around with his Jon,  _his Jon Moxley._ And maybe that was why Moxley wasn't much phased that night he visited; he had someone, his flame was protected by someone else.

"I'll see you around," Jimmy says, still awestruck and left with a small wave. Left Leakee stumped, still confused.

Shakes his head and rubs his eyes.

"Weirdo."

* * *

"You'd probably like 'im," Mox says. November air is chilly; cloudy sky and the threat of rain. Breakfast burritos in the cemetery; quiet place, the screech of a crow once in awhile. 

It's her anniversary, so Regal says. He doesn't remember, doesn't care much; never knew her. He's never had the loving arms of a mother holding him, the gentle hum of her voice rocking him to sleep. Never had the soft touch of hands cleaning his cuts from falling out of trees or being cut by broken glass.

All he's known was bloody tape, the survival of punches and the aches of lungs from heavy breathing; running from the authority, had Tyler's arms hold him in times his sick foster father touched him too far.

"His old man used to wrestle, says he's from a line of wrestlin' royalty or somethin' like that." He shrugs, takes a huge bite from his burrito. "They have a big family, sorta wish we don't have one," he adds, mouthful of food; smacks his lips, licks into his gums.

Maybe one day he'd bring Leakee to visit her, maybe they'd enjoy each other's company. Light wind blows from the south, he huddled himself in more, states at ice cold marble.

"I don't deserve 'im. He doesn't need this, doesn't need me. What--what does he see in me, huh? Tell me. I wanna know." Mox laughs, bitter and rough; crushes greasy foil, tosses it to the other plot of marble and dying flowers. 

He lights a cigarette, takes a long drag; let's the smoke out through his nose. Laughs again, short and rough. He stares at raw red skin, thick scabs; his hands ache, his jaw hurts. Mox sighs, takes another drag; blows it out this time. 

"You'd probably like 'im better than me, ya know? He's a good one, he likes to listen to me. I listen to him, he writes. Haven't read any of his shit yet, but 'm hopin' to read a little scrap," Mox says, blowing more smoke. "But he doesn't deserve a fuck up like me, yeah? 'Course not. I don't want to be the one to drag him down a road he's not ready to drive down, already did it to one person..."

He stands, winced when his back pops. His body is aching today, maybe because of the weather. Needs a rush. Looks at marble again, sighs.

"Don't ya worry, I'll be down there with you sooner than you think."

*

Before his match, high and pumped; Regal thrusts something cold and gold to his chest. Dark smile, twitch of a scar lip. It's heavy, takes it slowly and looks at Regal with odd curiosity. He stares at his new toy.

"Bloody brawls were my favorite thing back when I was just as reckless as you. Used this gem many times; cracked enough skulls, broke enough skin."

Mox slides his bruised knuckles through the holes. Awestruck, fingertips run smoothly over the sharpen points. He hears the yelling; the slams of cages, the announcements going on, his high buzzing him like a bee's wings.

Brass knuckles; heavy things. Made beautiful art on skin.

"Don't disappoint me, Jonathan." Regal gives him a pat on the shoulder. "It's a three-folds match, boy. You know what that means."

And yes, he does. He hates them; three people in one cage, fight bloody. Rips skin, tear sockets out; he even ripped an ear off from an opponent before. His favorite thing; being young and reckless, wild on hits and punches.

_House of Wolves: Threefold Death._

His fingers are shaking, his body itches. The brass knuckles are much heavier on fragile bone; he stretches and pops his neck, sighs. He's buzzing again, high and ready. He's the second one out, looks around.

They cheer, they hit the cages. Money is waved around; he sees one opponent, squatting at one corner of the cage. Watches him, glares; ready for death. Mox sees the other shit the fans have decided to add for the match; buckets of nails, hammers; screwdrivers, crowbars, drill saw, barbed-wire bats, other things he can't wait to use.

Mox is in the center, doesn't need to shy away from his fights. He waits for the next opponent, waits for the cage door to open; stares at blood stains on the cement floor. Looks up to see his next opponent; big guy with a mean snarl. 

Gives a dirty smile, corner of his mouth pulled back. Blond picks up a thick chain, cords heavy with enough weight to crush a windpipe. Mox tests the chain in his hands, it clinks against the brass knuckles he still wears like a crown.

He's king.

With the cage shut tight, the yells all around them--a ringing in his ears. The two dogs of fighters circle him, grinning mad; picking up whatever they can for the Threefold match. Mox shakes, trembles and tightens his hold on the thick chain; wraps one part around his hand and wrist. The first opponent comes at him, large hammer in his hand; Mox readys himself, smirking darkly.

There's a blow, a choke and the break of skin; dark red splattering the cement. 

* * *

 "He's magnificent, isn't he?"

Leakee watches, watches how Moxley beats the living hell out of one opponent; the other is a mangled mess of blood and broken limbs possibly. The blond is beating a swollen face, the glint of brass knuckles digging oh so beautifully into skin.

Didn't want to see this side; never thought it was this bloody. It's gruesome. Cringes when he hears a pop, the loud yell drowned by the other fans; sees the green in every hand.

"I have a few darling girls of mine who get just as nasty like my golden boy here."

Mox has a chain wrapped so tight around his opponent, pulls; hears choked cried, struggles to be let loose. Leakee can't believe Regal pays for this, to see Mox bloody and beaten; soaked in red, hair a light pink tinge, a mask of blood.

Barbwire goes around Mox's forehead from behind by bloody hands. He screams in pain, letting his chain go; poor guy who was being choked out finally takes deep lung fulls of air.

Leakee shakes his head, can't stand the way this shit is going. He turns away, hears the soft chuckle of Regal's; the way the fucker is getting off, showing Leakee just how dangerous Mox is.

"After Tyler's death, he got angry randomly. Outbursts of deep anger, hit anything that got in his way. I would lock him up in his room; let him destroy his own things rather than mine while trying to have a suitable business." Regal isn't turned to him, simply just watching the fight while Leakee just listens to the agony of screams and cheers.

"Before he turned eighteen I put him in his first match;  _House of Wolves._ I let him take his anger out on anyone he was given, I wasn't responsible for the pain he inflicted on the victims he had." Leakee closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. Keeps listening, though. "He chose to sell his body...but I  _made_ him into this monster."

He turns, looks through the rowdy crowd and watches Moxley again, drenched in crimson. Every utensil is smeared in blood, their bodies are covered in sweat and red too. Leakee can't think. He's seen, now, what Jon is capable of; how dangerous and  _raw_ this blond kid is.

"I told you he's not one to love, boy. He's not capable of loving, to care or to want to care. Jonathan is too damaged, what's there to see and love in him? He doesn't want to change, he's brought hell for him and Tyler; do you want that?"

Leakee's head hurts, almost hurts the way Moxley gets smashed in the back of the skull with a hammer; there's a loud smack, the way blood spurts out. He'd be dead; the blow wasn't swung hard enough. 

"You've fallen for a monster, boy."


	15. someone, somewhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought that you guys needed a small reward.  
> So here ya go, decided to be nice and let ya'll breathe for a moment. ♡♡

* * *

_dreams...my mind won't lift me from my dreams._

_and though you try, you can't escape me,_

_now you've seen what i've become._

_now you've seen what i can do,_

_now you've seen what i'm capable of._

* * *

 " _House of Wolves: Threefold Death_ winner, Jon Moxley."

Everything hurts.

He's breathing heavy, blood drips down his face; beaten and cut, sweaty. The high is still buzzing, not entirely numb though. Brass knuckles are covered in blood and bits of skin; the back of his head throbs, bleeding out fairly. His forehead was crowned of barbwire, had gotten that pulled out.

Blue eyes wonder to the crowd briefly, almost trips on a two-by-four; could have sworn he saw that fucking bastard Jimmy. Shakes his head, pain too much for him to focus on who's here.

Stumbles to the stalls, flinches when hands are patted on open cuts and burns. One of those idiots torched him; molten skin now around his back and legs.

Starts kicking boots off, shoves jeans down sweaty and blood covered thighs. Groans. His fingers tremble, winced at the feel of warm water. The gash in the back of his head is open wide, needs stitches. Sighs, can barely hold a bottle of soap.

"Jon?" 

Hunched, looks up. Sees tall and dark, worried brown eyes; Regal at his side.  _Of fucking course._

"The hell are you doin' here?" Looks over to Regal. "The hell is he doing here? Did you bring him, you sonofabitch?"

Leakee sees the way Mox is struggling to even hold the bottle of shampoo, the contorted expression of anger and pain; body trembling. The water at his feet is brown, mixing with red that flows down from the crown of Mox's head, slithering down scarred and burned skin.

"Wanted to show him what a delight you are in that cage, Jonathan. And a delightful thing you were tonight."

Leakee ignores Regal, quietly and hesitantly steps into the stall with Mox. He takes the bottle of shampoo, sighs and sees the new collection of beatings; reds and blues, harsh purples. The blond is fuming, Leakee can tell, he's shaking still and staring between Regal and him.

"You still wanna save me, huh?" Mox sneers. "You enjoy the show tonight? You gonna get off like this old sonofabitch does?" He gives a nod of his bleeding head to Regal.

Ignoring him too, Leakee pours a handful of body wash into his palm; set the bottle aside on the small rack of the grimy wall. He gingerly lathers up the substance and began washing Moxley quietly, gently. The blond shudders, grumbles as the bigger man uses his hands to wash the dried blood and sweat off.

"You're gonna need stitches," Leakee says softly, seeing how nasty the gash is. 

There's a snort. Regal has left, perhaps to gather the money Mox has won, the greedy bastard. 

"No shit. I've had worse, I'll be fine." It's clipped, cold.

"You gonna stay mad because I came to see you fight?"

A roll of eyes, probably hurts too by doing that. Leakee is still washing Mox down, even going beyond to squat down and wash Mox down south,  _everywhere._ Blue eyes flinches, uses broad, muscular shoulders as a lever to keep still. Brown eyes sees the new burns, the harsh skin left in a marred pattern; some deep cuts and bruises way too painful looking.

"Weren't s'pose to see  _this._ You like the way I beat that guy? How I nearly killed him with those chains? This is my fun time, I  _enjoy hurting people._ " 

He's standing back up, looking at the swollen face; still grinning mad as if the pain isn't so excruciating. 

"I don't like any of it, Jon. I don't like the way you hurt yourself to feel  _good,_ I don't like the way I see a new bruise or cut on you. I don't like  _any of it,_ " Leakee snaps.

His pants are wet, half his shirt is soaked. He'll get soaked more once he washes Moxley's hair. He sighs, feels his anger began to rise to meet with the blond's. 

"No one is telling you to stay around," argues Mox. "Leave, get the hell out. I don't need someone givin' me little pitty  parties. When I'm out there I don't  _feel,_ I enjoy every minute of it. It's the only goddamn time I enjoy bein' alive."

"I'm staying around because I  _care,_ idiot. You like pushing people away, goddammit, you're fuckin' stubborn!"

"Do you know why the fuck I  _stay here_ and endure the shit I go through with Regal?! Because I have no one to turn to. People have just given up on me; and I don't blame 'em. So it won't be new if you up and left me. Go ahead, I don't need you or anyone to  _save me._ "

Leake frowns, stares at Mox and wants to slap him across the face oh so hard.

"You carry yourself like it's no one's business, you think everything is fine for you! There's actually someone  _wanting to care and take their goddamn time to do it._ " Leakee pauses, huffs. "Just let me in, baby. Please stop pushing me away and just let me  _in._ "

He doesn't know when the tears start coming down, stinging his face. It hurts, the hole where his heart isnt; the pain through his body. The words Leakee tells him. Mox had only loved one person, and that person is gone because of him; everything, he blames himself for it all. 

He's never had someone care for him like Tyler.

The soap is washing off slowly, brown suds and taints of red. He's a mess. His head hurts so fucking much; and he wants to hit some more, he wants to let his anger and sadness out. No one, no one has ever tried staying after Tyler; they gave up too fast, said he wasn't worth fighting for.

But here, here is someone. His own  _home sweet home_ who he keeps pushing away because he's so fucked up he's not even sure what the hell to do. Mox doesn't want Leakee to leave him, never; he doesn't want to be alone, he's been okay being alone, it's nice at times.

Maybe Leakee feels it, or sees how disgusting he looks with a swollen face and tears falling silently. He's slowly and very delicately pulled into an embrace, held. Everything sort of clicks; he's soaks Leakee's clothes more now, but he doesn't care.

His fingers catch on to wet clothing, tightens the first in a wrinkled mess. He can laugh later at how stupid and ridiculous he sounds in his head. The bigger man isn't saying anything anymore, and his mouth isn't running to get himself in more trouble. 

_I'm safe._

* * *

Mox is stitched up with the help of the twin's sister.

A veterinarian down at the local dog pound.

Her husband and her run it together; take in any stray. He's met them once or twice, likes them more than a lot of people who's been in and out of his life. The back of his head is numb; took a high before she arrived to the brothel.

He sighs, doesn't move from the chair he was planted on; looks at Leakee with glassy eyes. Grins slowly, swollen and all. The bigger man is perched quietly on the counter, arms crossed and an expression Mox really doesn't feel like reading.

Can read any face. Knows things like that, likes to study people closely and  _see_ what they're thinking rather than hear. With ears to see, and eyes to hear. It went something like that, Mox supposes. 

"Do you, uh...do you want to stay at my place?"

"How much you willin' to pay?" 

Leakee pauses, blinks. Then it dawns on him.

"Oh," he says. "Oh, no. I, uh, was wonderin' if you wanted to stay as in rest. Wouldn't that be better? Sleep peacefully without all this." Waves his hand around, gesturing to the small crowd outside the kitchen.

"I haven't had a good sleep in a very long time, baby. Your place ain't gonna change a thing." Mox shrugs, winces. He feels good; no matter how battered he looks. "Guess I can give you my personal time."

* * *

"Home sweet home," Leakee greets, moving aside for blond to come through. 

There's still a mess around the school apartment. A full trash, some dishes in the sink; takeout containers stacked on top of the counter of bills and paper for grading. 

 Mox looks around, sees personal belongings. Not much, but it's there. Sees some photos hanging on one side of the wall, grins slowly. It's them; a laughing Leakee and an amused Mox, the day of the wedding. 

"Mom took those," Leakee explains. "Said she's never seen me that happy with someone; Lita couldn't even do that."

There's one of him and Leakee, looking at each other with awe; like they both hung the moon, added the stars and slapped on the Milky Way. Another of the two sharing a kiss, quiet and gentle. He feels warm, like he assumes everything will be okay for a little while.

"Pretty good lookin' couple."

"I agree." Leake comes from behind, being gingerly with the broken body who's stubborn as hell and keeps holding himself up like nobody's business. "You need rest."

"Yes, mother."

There's a tap to his side, a hand in his rough and dry ones. Taken down a small hallway, to a messy bedroom of clothes piled beside the dirty clothes hamper. It's dark, and cold. Large bed, unkempt just like his own.

A bathroom is also present. 

"I'm going to grade some papers. Sleep, okay? I'll be in bed in a few."

"Leakee?" Mox softly says, name so alien on his tongue. The first time ever saying his name aloud. It surprises Leakee just as much, although he quickly hides that expression. 

"Yeah, babe?"

"Thank you." It's probably another close thing to an 'I love you' in Mox's way the bigger man will ever get. But he's okay with that, more than okay, he thinks. 

A nod, and the gentle hold of hands around a swollen, purple face. They share a quiet kiss, and then one to the cuts from the wire on his forehead. Mox tosses his bag aside, takes his shirt off and sighs. Hears Leakee leave; kicks boots off and winces when his jeans slide against cuts and burns.

The bed is soft when he crawls in. It's not stained, or smelling of come and sweat no matter how many times he washes them. These sheets are clean, smelling of all Leakee.  _Safe._

Mox lays there, curled up on one side. It's quiet, everything is. There's no buzzing in his head, he can't feel his body aching. No pain. And maybe, maybe this was what he needed. He laughs in a bitter way, this still can't be a fucking fairytale for them; because fuck ups like him don't get second chances.

"Y'know, maybe things will be alright," he says, turning on his back. "Kinda feels right; but don't you fuckin' think for a second I've forgotten about you. He's good to me, ya know? I've put him through some bad shit and he hasn't left. Maybe I do deserve this ounce of happiness; I won't screw up. I won't let him down..." 

It had been awhile since he's had a small chat with Tyler.


	16. one single moment of sadness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...it was fun while it lasted.   
> Hope ya'll are ready for the next chapter, we weren't done with my girl just yet if ya'll know who I'm talking about.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy and I should be sorry but..ya know.

* * *

_so just remember,_

_that when there's enough love in our hearts to burst like a fucking supernova,_

_then there sure as hell's enough love in our hearts to spark that famous smile._

_we all lose someone at some point in our lives,_

_but don't ever let go of that smile._

* * *

Somewhere in the middle of the night, he cries in his sleep.

Somewhere in the middle of the night, he's held.

Somewhere in the middle of the night, he wakes up.

Arms, large ones have him held. Warm, safe. Everything is quiet. No moans, no bumps next door; no cries of delight. Everything is  _different._ He sighs, uncurls himself from those warm vices of safety. Bladder heavy, pressure not very pleasing as he sleepily waddled to the bathroom. 

Sorta stumbles in the dark. This place is all alien.

Nearly pissed himself trying to find the switch for the light.

He groans at the release after, peeing in relief; still half awake. Cold, aching. Needs a rush, a high; the back of his head still stings a little. He's sore. Eyes are puffy from crying in his sleep, something he doesn't acknowledge till he's in sobbing fits; wakes himself up usually. 

Doesn't know what he cries about. Whether it's Tyler's death played over and over again, or the fact that the pain comes at the time he's finally rested and just able to  _let go alone._

Wiggles himself to get the last drop out into the toilet. Sighs and stuffs himself back into his briefs. Washes his hands afterwards and looks up.

He sees the man in the mirror.

Once young, now tired. Dirty blond--maybe brown, he isn't sure anymore--hair that curls in his face, a filthy mess around his neck. Blue eyes that have seen too much, cried enough tears and have been ice when pissed. Used to be this kid, this piece of work; a broken boy, a man of a shell.

A chest filled with black smoke, a deep hole where a heart has been forever gone with a boy he loved so much.

He's this man, swollen face of blues and purples. Scars with stories, a rage of tales. A stubborn motherfucker, he's pushed enough people away. He pushed that girl who tried to keep him sane, to keep him balanced. What was her name again?

Snorts. He felt sorry for making her do shit, he was never good with the ladies in the first place.

He remembers how he stumbled upon Jimmy fucking Jacobs. He remembers how fucked up he was, how disgusting he felt afterwards. He remembers how Jimmy fucked him up more than he already was, the drugs and the drinking. Regal was so close to giving up.

Mox frowns at his reflection, could have sworn the man on the other side sneers at him; mocking him.

Growls, rears his fist back; brings back the night he got angry, got hurt, got destroyed. Brings back the night he needed Leakee more than ever. 

He breaks the mirror with his knuckles. They bleed, the skin is torn again. Will they ever heal? Everything blooms red, everything begans to shoot fire up his arm. He hisses between clamped teeth. Cracked glass, pieces fall into the sink. He stares at the broken man in different shapes, the pain and the sadness he holds.

"Fuck," he breathes. Holds his wrist to his bare chest.

Mox grabs the small towel he used to dry his hands earlier. Wraps it haphazardly, winces at the rough feel. He realizes how he's going to explain the broken mirror to Leakee. Running back to the brothel isn't going to solve the problem. 

The bleeding is slow. Keeps the towel wrapped around his knuckles, sighs again. Turns the light off and quietly goes back to the bed, a large form still laid on his side. Mox gingerly and silently slips back into the warm sheets, his warm spot. With those warm arms and that warm body.

Leakee's hair has gotten longer, Mox likes it quite alot. Especially when pulled, gives the bigger man more of feel to get rougher. Mox loves that quite a lot too.

His fingers ache, he keeps still when Leakee shifts. And, well, half asleep sex most likely happens. Mox isn't sure who goes for the first move, he finds himself under the larger man; legs spread and lazy kisses, feels Leakee all heavy and still sleepy looking.

It's too dark to even see the damage of his knuckles. Mox doesn't worry, he drags his nails into skin, a back clawed in deep red stripes. The grab of hair, the bite on lips; the soft hitches of breath and the low groan from Leakee. 

It's not rushed, it's not fast. It's the shit that goes slow, takes time; the movement lazy and just right. They can't see if the other is staring back. Doesn't really matter.

The bed goes in gentle squeaks, quiet. Hits the wall in light thumps. There's sweat, thin layer on their bodies and the sheets stick in weird places. Deep press against that certain spot has Mox squeezing around Leakee, gives a soft growl.

Mox comes on himself without even being touched. Leakee comes a little after, rolls his hips till he's done. They're breathing a little heavy, don't bother to even clean themselves. Leakee lays back to his side, on his back.

The blond shudders lightly and lays in the cool room, dried come and dried sweat. Legs still open; there's a soft sigh and the hum. He feels nice, he feels lighter. Leakee is back asleep, a hand gently rested in the groove of Mox's open thighs; it takes awhile for Mox.

He lays there, knuckles throbbing and soreness creeping in. He keeps itching for that high. He isn't sure what time it is, doesn't really want to know.

Instead, he turns over and curls himself to Leakee's side.

* * *

 This is hell, literal hell.

Leakee stares at the work of art, the shattered glass that was once his mirror. The dried blood, small drop splats. Sink and tile floor. Hands push back tangled, bed hair. Sighs loudly, eyes wide. When the ever loving fuck did this happen?

He doesn't want to dote so much at the moment. He'll be late for work, he'll let his small frustration get to him and then he'll be a bigger asshole to the students.

"Goddammit, Jon..."

It's six thirty in the morning. Moxley passed out naked; remembers they had lazy, sleepy sex somewhere in the middle of the night. He's showered, hair wet and clinging to his skin. Leakee gets ready for school, puts his hair up once it's dried enough to not be dripping. 

He ignores the mirror. Doesn't bother to wake Mox up.

They'll yell it out later, because that's how their thing is; they yell it out and argue like stubborn jackasses.

He passes the bed where a naked ass is just too good to pass up. Mox's hair is tangled, a wild mess on the pillow; a scarred back, scarred thighs and calves. There's tacky blood smeared on the sheets, sees the new addition of markings on Moxley's knuckles. 

Leakee frowns. He's not going to bother, the idiot doesn't want to listen; he's not going to fuss about it himself. 

The bigger man leans down to the wild card he's too worried over. Gives a small kiss to Moxley's temple.

"Be good," he whispers, and heads out.

*

"Honestly, where the hell do these little fucks get this sort of shit from?"

Leakee snorts, shakes his head. Doesn't look up, keeps reading over the papers his students have turned in. His eyes hurt, his head hurts. Jimmy talking doesn't help.

Breakfast hour doesn't end for the next forty-five minutes. 

He hasn't really listened, forgot what the lesson was. Been thinking too much on why the hell Moxley decided to break his mirror. Could have sworn everything was okay; that everything was going to be good just for this tiny moment for them.

But it wasn't going to be that easy, was it? No, of course not.

He didn't say or do anything Moxley didn't like or want, right? He thinks that maybe Mox didn't want to have sex last night. No, that's stupid; he'd be punched, he would have woken up with a black eye if that had happened. 

Leakee wants to understand this man, he wants to  _help._ He wants to be let in, he wants to try and do everything he fucking can to let Mox know he's not going anywhere. He doesn't know much about Tyler; just that these two were so madly in love at such a young age.

It sucks to not know what the hell to do, how does he try to save someone who clearly doesn't want to be saved? Who doesn't want to be pulled out of the fire? Who wants to keep on burning, to keep feeling the numbing pain because that's just their copinesim for everything. 

Leakee doesn't blame the kid, really. He's used to the loneliness himself, Lita wasn't help. All he wanted was for someone to be there at his side, instead it got worse. Now that he has someone who is such a challenge, a person he's willingly to listen and help, to understand...that person pushes him more and more away.

He sometimes thinks of that stupid song that they danced to at the wedding; the one talking about not giving up no matter how much shit they're going through.  _I Won't Give Up._

"--bloody and fantastic," Jimmy finishes.

"What?"

"Were you not--? Jesus fucking Christ, man. Was tellin' you about the fight, the fight last night. I think," the younger says, frowning slightly. "I swore I saw you."

The fight. Oh,  _the fight._

"Oh," Leakee says, sitting up more. Corner of his mouth pulls back, somewhat of a smile. "Yeah, I was there."

"Your, uh, your Jon Moxley is one hell of a guy out there, huh?"

He shrugs, sets the essay aside on the desk and sighs. Looks at the other man, who stares at him weirdly like he knows something that he doesn't. Almost like Regal does.

"Not a fan on what he does," says Leakee. "I mean, seeing the goddamn blood and pain he goes through isn't just for me."

"Hey, everyone has their own sick way in dealing with shit, ya know?"

Shrugs again. "Yeah, I guess so."

He knows so, he's seen it plenty enough to know.

* * *

 "Where the  _hell_ were you, Jonathan?!"

It's eleven in the morning. The earliest he's been up; still half asleep and walked his beaten ass all the way to the brothel after waking up in a cold, empty bed. Doesn't understand why Leakee didn't wake him up and have him explain the mess he left in the bathroom. Really doesn't want to fight about it.

Mox looks at Regal, squinty eyed and yawns. Shrugs.

"Stayed the night with Leakee."

Regal's mouth sorta sputters like a fish bobbing it's mouth open slowly. Wanting food or something. 

"So now we're having sleepovers? You had customers out here to attend to, boy. This isn't some little bloody, lovey dovey thing!"

The blond waves him off, rolls his eyes. "I'm back, aren't I? I needed the fuckin' rest, man. Got hit in the back of the head with a goddamn hammer."

"Oh for Christ's sake! You've been through worse, boy!" 

Mox rolls his eyes, his anger is starting to rise. The back of his head is beginning to hurt, he really wants that rush and just sleep it off till he feels less worse.

"How long are you going to keep this little fairytale up, Jonathan? Huh?" Regal presses, eyes getting a little glassy; a little wild look. "Till he's face down on a bed? Overdosed on a Speedball?"

He looks away, words stinging. He feels the tightness at his chest, to his throat. Feels fucking sick now, the way Regal knows how to destroy him with just that rancid tongue of his. Venom, laced and icy.

"Yes, exactly," Regal keeps on saying, "let him know just how pathetic you are, manipulate the poor boy! Destroy him just like you destroyed Tyler! Run off to find God knows what, to see the same boy I had picked up over and over again after taking the drugs and alcohol he was give!"

Regal is shouting now, Mox is trembling. He feels  _sick._ And he knows, God he knows how Regal dragged his half dead body; cursed him over and over on the way he decided to beat himself up. Remembers the anger he had, how he wanted to release it on anyone and on anything. 

It was the time when the bastard Jimmy fucking Jacobs appeared with a wicked smile and colorful pills.

"You didn't have to fuckin' do it!" Mox shouts back, shoving hard at Regal. "You didn't fuckin' need to help me, I didn't want it! Why didn't you just leave me, huh? Less of a problem for ya." He's laughing, it's bitter and rough. No humor. "You never cared, all ya wanted was the goddamn money from me."

"I've done  _so much for you!_ Everything, all for you! I wanted to  _help you._ I tried everything to keep you better! You never wanted it, you never wanted to be saved! Is that what you want, Jonathan?! To be alone, miserable and  _dead?!_ Shoot up and be found on the bed, by him? You fucking keep this bloody mess up with yourself and he won't  _be there._ "

Mox pulls at his hair, growls and smacks the side of his head. He feels hot, his throat tightens; he wants to swallow that ball. Doesn't want to believe it, doesn't want to listen to Regal; but he  _knows._ If anyone knew him better than he knew himself, it was all Regal. 

Regal knew how to work his rancid fucking mouth, knew how to work those dark words into his head. 

"You're only going to bring him further into hell with you, boy. The devil has had his way with you many times, and surely you don't want to bring pain to someone else who doesn't deserve a part of your life," Regal says, eerily calm and breathless. "I know a thing about self-destruction."

Whether it's because of the words, or the need to hit, Mox doesn't know. He finds himself with raw skinned knuckles and bruised fingers wrapped tight around Regal's throat; he growls and shakes. Could hear the others telling him to  _let go, you're going to kill him!_ But he doesn't care, he's so tired of being told what's wrong and right for him.

He's so tired of  _hearing it_ in his head, everything. For once he wants the control, he wants to choose what's good for him. And what is good for him, is the sunshine smile of a man who treated him so good.

Shoved off with warm hands, there's no gentle hold like last time. Regal is having a coughing fit, slumped and staring at Mox with wild eyes. He's breathing heavy, the itch to choke again and beat is running a course through him.

Brown eyes are hard, staring at Mox.

"The hell's wrong with you?" Leakee snaps, grips Moxley's shoulder tight. "Breaking my goddamn mirror and now you're tryin' to kill him! I don't know what the hell is your problem, Jon."

Moxley is stupid to think they'd have a single moment of happiness. 


	17. crack another, dear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa...another flashback, but a short one. It's cool.  
> Anyways...possibly two or three more chapters and we'll be done.
> 
> If you guys wanna talk to me or whatever the hell, find me on Tumblr! (dancinglucifer)

* * *

_i'm so done with it, i won't go back again._

_and i'm okay with this, that i'll be on my own,_

_until the day i die._

_which shouldn't be that long, so i'll just do what i do and make the most of it,_

_i won't fall down again._

_my heart's now dead and gone, and i'm still breathing,_

_i made it out alive._

* * *

 "Explain."

He's breathing heavy, his fingers tremble. His body aches, his head throbs. His hands smooth through greasy and tangled hair, pulls back with a deep sigh. Leakee is pissed. 

Was pulled away, Regal pissed too and leaving to his office. The girls are frightened, the guys weren't sure if touching Mox was a good idea. He's pacing around, walking back and forth, his fingers began doing this odd thing; tapping slowly against his collarbone, a little rythm going on.

They're outside, a little cold. But that isn't the biggest problem right now.

Leakee is watching him, brown eyes a little hard. There's a frown. Mox doesn't know what to explain, he's just angry.

"Nothin' to explain."

"The hell there is! I woke up this morning to a shattered mirror in my bathroom; is there no reason behind that?" Leakee wonders, watching Moxley go back and forth,  _tap tap tap_ on his collarbone. "What about Regal? You almost killed the guy, man."

A roll of eyes.

Leakee is getting impatient now, he grunts and grabs at Mox. It's probably a really bad idea knowing just how capable Mox is to hit. Has the younger man stopping that weird pacing, fingers stopped too. 

Moxley shoves the hands away. Frowns himself, teeth worry at his bottom lip, bites and bites.

"'M angry all the time," he says softly. Doesn't look at Leakee. "I worry too much. I want to hit everythin', I want to just scream and be left alone. My body hurts." Sighs. "You're gonna call me crazy an' all...but I hear him, y'know? I hear him, he tells me to quit pushin' you away, he wants me to be happy..."

And there it is, it's not entirely everything Leakee needs to hear and know; but it helps. It helps alot. The whole  _why this, why that, why why why._ It just takes time, is all; Leakee can be patient and wait. He wants this, this whatever they are to one another.

It's this modern fairytale they both have, where happy endings don't come just with a click like those movies Leakee has seen over and over again. For them, it takes so much time. Especially with a damaged work of art Leakee has tried to keep intact. 

Mox keeps going on. "I'm not good, darlin'. But you make me want to do so much better for myself, an' I'm tired of hearin' this shit...that I'll destroy you myself. But I won't, I don't want to..."

There's this weird thing in Leakee's chest, in his stomach. It swells, it tightens. He watches Moxley quietly, watches how he shifts; how he itches to start tapping at his collarbone again, to start pacing. The confession the blond is beating himself up on just shows how much he cares too.

"You're a stubborn jackass," Leakee says. "Like last night that I told you; just let me in. I'm here, baby. Stop pushing me away, let me help you. I want this, I want  _you and only you._ " 

The same hands that had roughly grabbed him and dragged him out of the brothel are the same hands that are gentle to his less swollen face; soft fingertips brush against blues and purples, lightly pass over small cuts.

"Sorry I broke your mirror."

There's a kiss to Mox's cut up forehead, the gentle hold of arms around him. Safe, warm. They didn't yell, not really. It's good, it's better; a progress slowly coming together. 

"My, uh, my family called me during my break at school. I'm still on it, went lookin' for you and all. But they asked if I wanted to spend Thanksgiving over there with them, you know? You wanna join?"

Mox sighs, shrugs. Bad shit happened the last time; the rape hasn't really affected him, he blurs it out just like he does for a fight. Doesn't feel. What has him more stressed over the request from Leakee is  _who_ will be waiting for them; and because of her, Mox went out and did something ruthless to hurt himself.

He doesn't respond quick, and maybe Leakee gets it.

"I'll come back later, okay?" Leakee looks at Mox, kisses him quietly with a nod from the blond. "Be good," he adds.

"Yeah, yeah." A roll of eyes, a huff. There's a teasing smile from both, Leakee gives him another kiss and leaves; gets in that glossy black truck that just doesn't fit with the bigger man.

Mox goes back inside, gets a nasty look from Regal and weary little looks from the girls; the guy's stare, like they're waiting for Mox to snap or something. It's funny. There's dark red marks around Regal's neck, and God he knows the punishment he'll get in the cage or in the bedroom, doesn't matter.

He heads up to his room, finds his stash; fixes himself up a good high and lays down, closes his eyes. It feels nice, he's numb and there's no pain. No hurting, the back of his head has cleared of any soreness, doesn't feel the throbs on his knuckles. 

"I know you want me to be happy, babyboy. It's what you'd want, you always tried to makin' me stay happy," Mox quietly says, eyes half-lidded. Stares at the ceiling. "I just don't want to put pain on this one, he doesn't deserve it. Neither did you."

*

Mox wakes up in a sluggy state, and sees a very familiar face that brings such poison to him, nasty and rancid. The twist in his gut and the after high doesn't mix well. He frowns slowly, rubbing his eyes.

"You're still beautiful when you're drugged and sleeping a high off," Jimmy says, smirking slowly. He's a little high himself, Mox can see the glassy look.

"The hell d'you want?" His voice is slurry still, rough from sleep and scratchy.

Jimmy goes and sits on the bed beside Mox's thighs, leans over with one arm over his legs; hums. Close up like this he can smell the strong cologne he always wore, always had the stench on him after fucking and fucking and fucking.

"Unfinished business."

Rubs at his eyes, feels his head starting to hurt. The stitches are itching for a pull out. He sighs.

"There's no unfinished business, goddammit. I left on my own."

Jimmy rolls his eyes, scoffs. He stares his glassy brown eyes at Mox, bloodshot too. Gives this dirty smile or frown to him, Mox isn't sure what's the difference. 

"You're a dirty little whore, Jon Moxley. You can't just get up and  _leave,_ " Jimmy continues, giving an annoying tap to Mox's bruised nose. "What, you found love all of a sudden? You think that's going to keep you from being a little drug whore?"

Maybe it's true, maybe it's not. But Mox is tired of it, he hears it enough from Regal. The countless _you're no good for anyone, you're just going to end up dead._ He wants to be the better person, he wants to show Leakee that he can be worth it. And maybe, just maybe, Leakee could be the one to save him from the self-destruction that Tyler couldn't do.

"I've been through enough hell, Jimmy. Leave me the hell alone, I said I was done and I meant it. I don't need you to be the death of me," Mox quietly says, voice so calm and icy. "You never cared, no one has; I've only had two people who've cared enough to want to save my ass, I lost one because of the monster I am. 'M not gonna lose the other one."

Jimmy is laughing, head thrown back and shaking with laughter. Mox growls, upper lip twitches.

"You're _pathetic._ You seriously believe Leakee is going to stay around for you, Moxley? Is that why? Oh my god." He keeps laughing, shaking his head and wiping one corner of his eye. 

The blond blinks, eyebrows scrunching up slowly at the mention of Leakee. And how the _ever loving fuck_ does Jimmy fucking Jacobs know about Leakee? 

* * *

  ** _Fall 2001_**

"Y'know, I'm gonna marry you one day," Mox says, bed rocking and breathing a little heavy. They got to stay quiet, they'd be in pretty deep shit if they were to be caught.

It's a week night; no going out and no friends. Study, study and study. But instead, the younger found his reckless and relentless boyfriend camping out in the bathtub of his joined bathroom and bedroom.

Tyler nearly had a heart attack seeing Moxley there, chill and dozing off. Usually the blond would come sneaking in for a late night fuck; through the window from up a tree just below Tyler's window. Mox never stayed long, always had to leave right after or else.

The younger above him, riding him slow and quiet with the low groan of the mattress, whines softly when Mox pushes his hips further up. Nails dig into skin, fingers squeeze on thin hips, leaves something to stare at the next morning. 

"Marry me? You sound so sure," Tyler breathlessly says, a small smirk forming. Wild curls in a frizz; keeps riding Mox in that lazy manner.

"Because I am sure, damnit." Mox gives a low growl and pulls the smaller closer, brings him down for a filthy kiss; swallows moans and spit, tongues and teeth clashing. "Gonna marry ya, gonna run away. Fuck you anytime and anywhere, no one ain't gonna stop us babyboy."

There's a soft giggle mixed with a high whine, and Mox shuts him up again; he really doesn't want to be running out the window naked as fuck because of his slutty little boyfriend who can't keep quiet. The blond fucks hard into Tyler till they're spent, come filled and come stained.

They lay there, breaths heavy and chests rise and fall. It's getting pretty late, not like Regal cares. But these parents, Tyler's parents, they usually check and see of he's in bed and ready. It's weird, he's never had that done before; Regal locked him up most the time.

"Why?" is a soft little question.

"Why, what?"

Tyler rolls slowly onto his side, presses himself up to Mox's own and plays with the sweat and greasy hair. He hooks a leg around one of Mox's, curls it and sighs.

"Why do you wanna marry me?" Tyler asks again.

There's a soft sigh. "Because you make me happy," Mox says quietly. "You try to keep me outta trouble. You're this little piece of happiness that I want to keep safe; and I wanna make you happy, babyboy. I wanna be good for you."

A soft sniff is heard, a hiccup. Mox turns to see Tyler silently crying, gives a little laugh. He feels that tight ball in his throat too, the twist in his stomach. Moxley realizes that they're going to be okay, maybe not tonight or tomorrow or the next day; but they'll eventually be okay. He wants this, for them to be happy and leave.

"I love you so much, Jon Moxley."

He lays there when Tyler falls asleep, warm and small curled at his side. Mox never sleeps, he's scared one day he'll wake up to a looming man of Tyler's father and he really doesn't want to know the outcome of this.

His mind drifts, plays with the younger's hair and sighs. It's somewhere in the middle of the night. The clock on the nightstand clicks softly, music from Tyler's little radio plays quietly. Everything is warm, everything feels good. Mox doesn't want that to slip; he's happy with this kid in his arms. Doesn't want to loose that flame.

Moxley is going to keep his promise, he's going to marry Tyler Black and run away; let them be happy for once together. 

*

Mox isn't sure where this damn flashback came from, but the punch knocks him back to reality; he stumbles back and is landed on his ass. The crowd is going wild, they're yelling and hitting the bars; the money is being waved around like usual. 

He groans, slowly moves to get up only to be kicked hard in the ribs, makes him roll to his back and curl in on himself. He's so stupid, why all of a sudden is he thinking about that night? He can't be distracted right now.

Mox's opponent comes at him, big guy with a greasy face. He tries to kick and stomp on him, but the blond is quick to move away and get to his feet, growling in a way. The smaller goes for it, trying to ram the bigger body into the bars.

Punches and punches, scratches and bites. Maybe it's time to move on, maybe it's time to leave the bad shit in the past and look at the future he wants to make with a sunshine smile.

Everything hurts, and Mox still feels the swell of that ball lodged into his throat.

* * *

Leakee leaves Tuesday afternoon; an early release from school.

They fuck, filthy and rough; leaves a little sting and some bites for Mox to enjoy while he's away. They don't talk about why Mox wants to stay. The bigger man knows, knows what eats him up inside; and he doesn't want to push and ruin this small moment. So they leave it there.

Half a week goes by.

Mox fights, Mox whores himself. He doesn't dote on the days, wants them to go on fast and bring Leakee back home. He isn't even sure when the bigger man will be coming back; sure before the holiday is over and school starts. The blond finds a folded little paper on his night stand with his stash; sees the number and the name written across it.

Sighs, a fire unleashes itself in his belly.

A feeling that isn't good, he knows it's not good.

_Don't do it, please don't do it._

If it's because the little bitterness he has with knowing Leakee has to see and talk to her, well, that's no one's business but his own. So he finds his phone, chipped and having seen way better days.

Fingers shake. He frowns and types in the numbers slowly and quietly; laying in a mess of his bed with sweat and come stains, having a faint smell.

Sighs again and let's the phone ring once, twice and--

"Knew you'd call sooner or later, you cute little whore."

He really, really hates Jimmy fucking Jacobs. 

 *

The high is stronger than his normal one.

It brings this intense buzz, like with every move there's extra; sludges and a pulsing aurora. The walls beat like a heart, the heat around his dick has him feeling all sorts of things. Mox states up at the man riding him in a drug haze, glassy eyes and wicked grins.

It's the same shit he hears almost every night that Jimmy tells him.

_Look at you._

_You're so pretty, pretty little thing you are._

_Beautiful boy._

Jimmy claws at his chest, ranks nails down his scarred body and Mox hisses. Leakee doesn't do this, he never adds a little pain. He feels like they're in a meadow,  only them, thick and long grass swaying so soft with the light wind. Daisys sit around them, a gentle sun on their skin.

It's so weird and Mox can't tell what's real and what's not.

What the fuck did Jimmy even give him? Surely it's not the same shit he used when he was younger and in such a state, he remembers and knows his high wasn't this intense. 

Mox groans when Jimmy presses down on himself, moves his hips like he knows what the fuck to do. The blond hisses again, his body is fully jelly as he tries to move, tries to even mark Jimmy.

So into it, so into the high and the fucking; Mox doesn't hear the door open, or the small intake of breath. But he sees it, he notices it; looks over to meet wide brown eyes, like fire starting slowly in those deep depths. 

Jimmy is rocking on to him, too lost into his high; head thrown back and eyes closed. Maybe that's what gets Leakee's attention, maybe that's what gets Mox's eyes widening at the slow anger forming on the bigger man's face.

Before he can react, say or do anything, Mox is sorta sitting up more as Jimmy is just riding him out. Leakee is  _here,_ here and grabbing Jimmy off Mox with a growl. There's no noise, too shocked to even make a peep; but it scares the fuck outta the two, how Moxley desperately gets up and tries to get dressed in a sensible manner.

How Leakee is hauling a naked Jimmy by the neck and slamming him sickeningly hard against the wall. Now there's yelling, now there's a struggle. Mox stumbles a little in pulling his pants up, hands trembling wildly and trying to focus on being more sober than high.

"The fuck are you doing?!" That's Leakee, voice deeper and fucking scary. "He's  _mine._ "

There's a small wheeze of a laugh, gasping and Jimmy trying to claw his way out of Leakee's death grip.

Moxley tries to pull Leakee away, sees how nasty marks are forming around Jimmy's neck. He can't catch up to what the fuck is happening, seeing the destruction Leakee is doing. Doesn't want anymore trouble.

"Leakee," pants Mox, grabbing at the bigger man's wrists, trying to pry him off from the choking Jimmy. " _Leakee,_ let him go! He's turnin' purple, darlin'."

 It feels like forever, but Leakee finally let's go. Watches the naked Jimmy slide down the wall and gasp, big fits of coughing. Stares up at the two with wide, glassy eyes; rubs at his neck who's bright red and face slowly turning to his normal skin tone. 

"Honey, I'm home," Leakee says sarcastically, gives a look to Mox and leaves, hair that's pulled back into a neat bun is now out of place. He looks tired, sighs and walks out the door where a small crowd has gathered.

The blond looks at the older, pink stripe in a different direction and sex hair more tamed than ever now.

"Get dressed and get the hell out." He follows after Leakee, shoves through the girls and guys, all scared the fuck out and moving away. God he's so stupid, and he blames himself; he wanted to be better, wanted to make this better for himself and Leakee. 

He really fucked it up this time.

It's freezing outside, Leakee is pacing around. He flared, coiled and just ready to hit. Mox is fucked up to say that this man looks so beautiful angry, it shows more emotion on him. 

"Jimmy an' I have had a past before; after Tyler's death. He got me real fucked up, put me through hell more than I have ever been through," Moxley explains, watching Leakee. "I told him to leave me the fuck alone, doll. But just thinkin' about you an'  _her_ got me real angry..."

"You think I'd go do  _that?_ What--what have you done to me,  Jon? Jesus Christ, you're a real work of art. I said I wasn't goin' anywhere, I meant it! What do I gotta do to prove that to you, man?" Leakee sighs, huffs and looks at Mox with a frown. "I didn't know you knew Jimmy...I should have known you were his past too when he'd mention you once or twice...God that sneaky little bastard." Shakes his head.

Mox quirks up a small smile. He shivers, gets goosebumps slowly from his bare upper torso. Stares at a frowning Leakee, they look at each other like one has hung the stars and the moon, like the sunset that paints the sky in purples and oranges, deep yellows and soft pinks.

Maybe, just maybe...their modern fairytale won't be so bad.


	18. his heart of gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna say that possibly the next chapter will be the last.  
> Let's just go with that for now, okay.  
> Anyways, happy (very) late birthday to the wild child of my heart, Dean Ambrose. (Although I didn't mention his birthday in here but still, maybe next chapter will be a small birthday dedication)  
> So yeah, enjoy. ~

* * *

_i fill my lungs with the deepest of regrets,_

_and i don't know if i will make it home again._

_it gets a little harder day by day,_

_the loneliness is swallowing me._

_i listen to the silence to hear what it might say, who will pick me up again?_

_i need you here, i need a friend._

_we'll get lost on time that's stolen, so take my hand,_

_and send me home._

* * *

"Brought him to meet ya."

The weather has been cold, freezing. It's December weather, there's soft flakes on his face that melt quick; the slight wind doesn't help, the sky is clouded and the sun is far from coming out. Things are going to get wet soon, sloshy and icy probably. Fingers are a little chilly, his breath comes out in thick white with each sigh he makes.

They're quiet in the cemetery, standing in front of glossy marble and dead flowers. It's too wet to sit in the grass and Mox doesn't want a soaked ass at the moment.

"He got you some pretty flowers, like 'em? Thought you would." And they are pretty things, wanted to show a respectable manner towards her is what Leakee had said. 

It doesn't mean a lot to Moxley, but it helps somewhat. 

"Regal once told me if I kept my shit up I'd be down in the ground with her," Mox says softly, taking a long hit of his cigarette and let's the smoke out slowly. "Said he wasn't goin' to help me anymore. Was tired of my reckless behavior..." 

Leakee looks at Mox quietly, all snuggled up in warm jackets and beanies; scars covered and wild blond hair tamed for once under that beanie. He stares at the man who's been through enough shit. Stares at the man he's decided to keep, see how this goes. 

Mox continues, "I've never had happiness, y'know? I didn't get to grow up in a family of love, an' maybe that's my fault for not lettin' anyone get close to me. Maybe that's what got me wanting to be  _enough_ for Tyler. He made me  _feel,_ he made me want to do better things. I wanted to do so much for him!"

Licks his chapped lips, shakes his head and gives a bitter smile at marble. Doesn't meet his eyes to Leakee's own.

"Instead of givin' him happiness like I wanted, instead of trying everythin' I could for us...I destroyed him. I destroyed myself, already knew that." Takes a long hit. Blows smoke out with each word. "Heh, and Jimmy Jacobs...ah, he was a character to me alright. Literal hell, and I still wonder why I'm not layin' next to her. I took every drug I could get from him, and Regal...Regal didn't understand, he knew I was in pain and  _angry,_ he just didn't see it. He didn't understand my ways."

Leakee isn't sure if Mox is talking to him, to his mother or to  _someone else._ Isn't even sure if he should say something, Mox is just talking up a pain of storms and nasty memories swirling up in his mind. Leakee wants to reach out and hold Moxley, to let him know that that shit isn't going to be like anymore; it's going to be different. 

Mox finishes his cigarette and begins biting at his lip, pulling at dry skin and tasting the copper there on his tongue. He bites more on his bottom lip to let the blood bloom on his tongue. He takes the flowers from Leakee and tosses out the old ones aside and sets the new ones in the small vase in front of her grave.

"Don't wanna hurt you, an' I know I'm difficult. I've put you through shit, but fuck I'm goin' to try really hard for you...for me. Not gonna go back to that place in hell, I want this...I want you," Mox says, still not looking at Leakee and steps back to look at the cold marble slab and the bright colors there in a gloomy place.

"Hey," Leakee calls, voice gentle and light. He goes to Mox and turns him, gets their eyes to meet; icy blue and dark brown, a slow smile forms on Leakee's lips. "I'm going to keep telling you, damnit. I'm going to keep telling you that I'll be here, I'm not goin' anywhere."

There's a quiet nod, the embrace of warm bodies pressed together; Mox burying his face into Leakee's chest, sighs and hides himself there. Wants to make himself small and just be wrapped in a warm hug with that sunshine smile.

"You got me, okay? Not going anywhere, I'm stayin'. That's, everything is in the past now; your pain and your suffering. Don't fuckin' worry about it, it's just you and me now," breathes Leakee, giving a small squeeze to Moxley's scrawny frame. Feels a tremble against him.

Leakee wishes to just start everything over for Moxley, take every pit of pain from him and just see him happy and loved; it's the best thing when this idiot smiles, when he's being himself without thinking so hard or keeping anger in control. He wants the good things for Jon, everything. And it hurts that Leakee keeps trying and trying and not seeming to think he's done nothing. 

"I believe you."

* * *

He feels okay. Like he can breathe better. 

He knows he's destroyed in places that will never be healed. 

But it feels warm, nice to be held and  _loved._

Sometimes he wants to sit down and let it all out; cry and growl and hit and scream, to feel empty and fill himself up with happiness and what was little left of what he used to have. 

A homeless puppy who's been through the worst of worst, and finding a forever home.

The collar is pulled tightly by a thick chain, it clinks with every move he makes. He groans, eyes closed and foreheads pressed together; fingers tight in sheets and knuckles turning so white. The headboard of the bed smacks into the wall, chain is pulled again and he gasps out; hips pumping further against sweaty skin, they're both so sweaty.

His hair is a sweaty mess too, fingers are tight in it; a hitch of breath and the bite to the neck, it's hard enough to tear skin and that just makes it even more better. 

Not one for the soft shit, especially when it's him doing the filthiest mess he can make. Doesn't mind a few rolls around the sheets, gentle and all; but hell, he likes control once in awhile. So that's what it is right now, fucking so filthy and growling. Biting and scratching, that collar just makes him feel so  _good._

There's a hotness building up, like a fire getting bigger in the pit of his stomach. A coil wants to unwind slowly, the burn making it'd way all through his body and the gentle throb of  _let go._ His muscles got tight, his thighs temple and he kept his grip tight on the side of a neck and the sheets, gasping and moaning.

Mox fucked his way into Leakee till they were both coming, a bit of the roll of eyes and the toss of a head; the loud groan and the tight pull of a chain. The hand wrapped tight on that chain keeps it's hold on Mox, thick leather strap rubbing raw into skin. He likes it, always a sucker for the right kind of pain.

"Fuckin'  _hell,_ " Moxley pants, sweaty foreheads pressed together and breathless kisses here and there. There's a soft ache in his ribs from his heavy breathing.

Everything is hot right now, pulls out and flops himself at Leakee's side; chain lazily crumpling between them and collar a little tight laying flat on his back.

"That was...that was... _whoa._ "

Mox gives this snort of a laugh, they're covered in sweat and come; and this, this is what it feels like to be  _okay._ Sort of, he's not sure he'll ever be okay, but right here...right this minute, laying beside a man who's been through shit that should have scared him away a long time ago. But instead, here they are, breathless and sex vibing.

He stares up at the ceiling, a hand on his thigh and rubbing softly at the light scars from being tangled in barbwire way too many times.

"Thank you for taking me to meet your mother," Leakee says, hesitant as if he's going to ruin this blissful moment.

"She'd like ya, maybe. Not sure, didn't get to meet her myself," Moxley replies, shrugs. "Probably like those stories you're always writin'."

There's a gentle squeeze to his thigh and Leakee sighs, sweat cooling and come now hardening in tiny hairs of swirls and skin.

"I didn't see...or, uh--" Leakee is struggling with his words, not sure how to word them correctly or what to say, exactly. Clears his throat. "Is, ah, is Tyler buried in that same cemetery too...?"

It really surprises Leakee how Mox doesn't make a move or flinches; just stays relaxed staring up at the ceiling of his school house-apartment. It's a habit, he sees, how Mox likes to hang around here more than the brothel. 

"No." Mox shifts slowly, on his side now to look at Leakee; distracts himself with his hair, grown out now and long enough for those better buns. Leakee's hand still keeps itself on that one scarred thigh. "His parents buried him or burned 'im, not sure what they did. Somewhere in Connecticut, it's where they were originally from, so."

He shrugs. 

"Sorry 'bout that." 

"You're not to blame," Mox says.

* * *

Jimmy ignores him as much as he can, doesn't come around anymore and Leakee really isn't complaining. 

But today, today is different. It's like Jimmy gained this little confident step and is making his swaggering way to Leakee who's just finished the last of his class, ready to pack up and go see Moxley or just take a long nap for the day. He really thinks he needs to finish up his story for Jon, really wants his babe to read it and hopes to enjoy it.

The door closes, and Leakee straightens up slowly with a sigh and hair in a sloppy bun. Sleeves pulled up passed his elbows and showing off the sleeve of art on his arm.

"You know," Jimmy starts, shaking his head and sneering at the floor; like a laugh is to bubble up soon, "you know, I thought about this long and hard...and goddammit are you  _stupid._ You're so stupid to think you're so happy with that fuck up Moxley."

It's this tight spring, coiled so back and ready to snap. That's what it is inside Leakee, the pit of his stomach and in the core of his heart. He feels it, it's hot. Over and over again, getting a little fucking tired of it.

But Jimmy, fucking Jimmy keeps running his fucking mouth.

"When he came to me, begging for something to take the pain away, I did  _everything_ to keep him from the anger and the pain and just the thoughts; I gave him every little colorful pill I could find, any bottle to keep him from thinking of that little slutty boyfriend he fell oh so helplessly in love with." Jimmy shakes his head again, sighs and grunts. "Instead he went through a more destructive state, self-loathing and just out of it. And to think he was getting better..."

Leakee feels that fire licking it's way up to his neck, bottom and to the top, up and up and up away. His hands tremble, like he's seen when Mox is angry; wants to hit. His jaw clicks with teeth clamped down so hard, it hurts. 

"He's not one for saving, as you can see. So  _fucked,_ he's way damaged than ever, man! Just a dirty little whore, once a knee-down whore always a--"

Moxley isn't here to stop him with a quiet voice or hands on his arms, Moxley isn't here to see and hear what words are being said about him. It's not like Jon knows, he hears it and lives it day in and day out. But that's fine, because Moxley isn't here--and it'd good, better.

Leakee has Jimmy in a choking manner again, hands so tight in a boa-constricting way that their bodies shake together. All he's seeing is red, so much red. Everything is hot now, he feels the licks of fire in his fingers and the way he keeps that tight pressure around and the way Jimmy squirms and gags, eyes wide and pink.

"I'm tired of fucking hearing  _this._ I'm fucking tired of hearing him put himself down because of what you fucking assholes tell him; I'm tired of  _it all._ " Leakee's voice isn't the soft, quiet thing; it's a cold tone, rough and shaky, all anger. "He's not perfect, I get that. He's not good, that's fine. But you don't get to fucking tell me what I should want or to leave him when everyone has given up on him."

He shakes Jimmy against the wall, growling. 

"I  _love him_ , that's all he wants. I'm goin' to be the one to save him, not you or Regal.  _Me._ He's going to be so loved, he's going to be one day happy with me, and it's going to be all because of  _me,_ " Leakee snarls out.


	19. the death of me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The acoustic versions of these songs (The Death of Me and Moving On both by Asking Alexandria) are part of the inspiration of this fic.
> 
> The next chapter will be an epilogue, so.  
> Sorta not happy that this fic is ending but goddamn am I proud of it. Look how far I came with this child!
> 
> Enjoy ~

* * *

_a boy of anguish, now he's a man of soul,_

_traded in his misery for the lonely life on the road._

_the years were cruel to him, no, he won't let them go,_

_lays awake tryna' find the man inside to pack his bags and escape this world._

_i've never been so torn up in all of my life,_

_i should have seen this coming._

_i've never felt so hopeless than i do tonight,_

_i don't wanna do this anymore, i'm moving on._

* * *

  _I've fallen in love with a person who has been damaged in the worst way possible, though he's an unfinished work of art in my eyes. I have been a lonely person, and I've said I didn't want to find love; but somewhere in this small flame, I have found someone._

_He has a reckless mind, a heavy heart for a soul who he couldn't save. But slowly and surely, he realizes someone is at his side again, who wants to help and never hurt him in ways he's been hurt._

_Some days I feel like giving up, not just on him, but on myself. And then there's those days where I look at him and things just...feel right. He's human too, he feels every emotion in his own style; I've seen him angry, sad, happy, and betrayed. I've seen him more alive in these times I've spent with him, and I still can't believe this is all because of me._

_I still remember the day I met those lively blues._

_He wasn't scared, and he wasn't going to trust. That's what caught my attention, the need to know about this broken man; the lifestyle he had, the way his knuckles were bruised in splotches of reds and purples, how his body was a painted canvas of stories I wanted to know..._

_I wanted to know every scar, I wanted to know how much pain he went through for every bruise to come up, to see what damage he had more inside rather than outside. Little things that seemed bigger for the both of us--_

He takes another drag of his cigarette, eyes squinted in the chilly air of the night sky. Porch light is the only thing helping him read these stories. These stories he's finally gotten his filthy hands on, and to be honest with himself he's a little surprised how Leakee describes him; never thought he actually studied him more than he thought.

_A calm before the storm._

Gathering up the rest of the papers, he puts them neatly back in the folder Leakee had them in. Having found them on the desk, Mox just had to read them, had been itching to read and know what was in Leakee's mind for him.

Takes another drag of his cigarette and quietly puts his smoke out, trembles lightly at the cold air.

Mox goes back inside, back inside the apartment where Leakee is fast asleep in the bedroom after a day of adventure. He had laughed through the whole story on what Leakee did to Jimmy.

_"I could have killed him, Jon."_

_"Pretty disappointed you didn't, darlin'."_

It's funny to Moxley, he's used to the sting of words. He's used to the nasty things he's told on a daily basis, used to the hits and the negativity; so what changes for him when Leakee stands up for him? He isn't sure, it feels nice maybe. No one really hasn't done that for him, no one really cared about what Mox felt. Except...well...

He's sore, he's bruised and cut again.

Showered from another brutal fight, places the folder back on the desk in the living room and makes his quiet way to the bedroom, scratching his bare stomach. He winces when a scab is peeled, thick and red rimmed.

Mox wants to write his own story about Leakee; how he was saved not once, but twice--saved by a man who didn't have to, who could have easily gotten up and left. Instead, he's loved in all the right places, he's treated differently; he's not this object, he's this person with a broken soul and half dead heart.

He's the kick in the teeth in Leakee's world of gold.

Sometimes he wonders what he did to deserve this sort of affection, what or who decided he needed a little piece of heaven. Sometimes he wonders if he didn't wake up with Tyler, didn't wake up and didn't go this far in his reckless life of bloody knuckles and bruised mouths. Would Regal be in a blissful mood to not worry or having to be responsible for Mox if he was long gone, six feet down with the junkie whore he called a mother?

He wants to write a story about a boy who fell in love and hurt the most important person in his life, he lived in and out with the path of self-destruction--wanted nothing more than a painless death. Instead, he found these brown eyes who were kind and patient towards him. Mox wants that story, wants that story that holds a promise of a possible happy ending.

Moxley would name that story;  _The Death of Me._

When he looks at that man in the bed he sleeps with, curled and feeling safe for once, Mox has this urge...an urge of something, it's warm and bright. He feels this dark hole where his heart should be at--closing and let's him breathe a little better.

He lays beside the man who's given more than he can handle, and eventually...Mox will give more, more of everything to Leakee. Because he deserves it. He smiles slowly, kisses Leakee's temple and sighs softly.

_Thank you for staying..._

* * *

"You can stay..."

He isn't sure where this is coming from, but he wants this. He wants this healthy thing him and Moxley have going on, he wants to keep it safe and warm. Wants to protect that little shred of happiness for the both of them and not let anyone get near it to destroy it.

But it's those words that mean more to Mox than anything. 

He can stay, he wants to stay. He doesn't ever want to leave, he doesn't want that life anymore of blood and bruises, stranger's fucking him for the pleasureable pain. He's done, and he wants to start now.

Leakee smiles slowly, pulls Mox closer to his chest and sighs; kisses the top of Mox's head of wild curls.

"Stay," he repeats. "Stay with me, if you want."

Moxley has never had a permanent home of care and love, protection or attention. All he's grown up with was pain, misery, hate, blood, shiners, pills, and drinking. So there's a knot in his throat, deep and large; it's hard to swallow and it's hard to say anything. He's being stupid, he wants to laugh at himself for being such a crybaby over this.

It's late morning, cloudy with no sun. The wind is strong today, the promise of rain or snow to come. They're laying together in bed, curled against one another and Leakee is gently running his fingertips over the scars on Mox's back, touches the huge one that he used a cheese grater on.

Even though today he's supposed to despise because of his cruel mother bringing him into this world screaming covered in blood and little fragile limbs thrashing, he hates her for  _not caring._ She never cared if her baby was born or not, didn't care if he was to be healthy--

"Jon?"

Mox blinks sleepily up at Leakee, wide brown eyes and long hair feathered out around them. Eyebrow raised.

"Daydreamin', sorry." Mox licks his lips, little dry. "You really want me to stay? You're gonna get tired of me, Lea. I know it."

"You'll get tired of me too, it'll be fine."

And then,  _oh._

"I'm gonna have to break the news to Regal," he says, curling a strand of Leakee's hair around his index finger. "Tell 'im I'm done, ya know?" 

It sorta feels like a nasty punch; Moxley realizes he won't fight anymore, he won't whore himself to strangers. It's the only life he lived, the only thing he knew to do. He'll miss the hot adrenaline, he'll miss the crushing blows and the sweat and the blood, he'll miss the need to hit and the anger he has been controlling--rather, trying.

He won't miss the rough fucking, won't miss the burns and the bruises from men who didn't care for his pain, nor did they cared if he was in pleasure or not. 

"Probably won't be too happy..."

Mox shrugs and sighs, stares at his blunt nails crusted with blood and dirt. Leakee is looking at him weird, something in those big brown eyes; a hidden smile and maybe...awe?

Mox licks his lips again. "Y'know...today is my birthday. The day my mother, junkie of the year, decided to actually keep me and squirt me out. Cryin' an' bloody...screamin' my little heart out that had two holes."

Eyebrows raised and the gentle pet of a hand at the back of his head, playing with his tangled and greasy hair.

"Well, I have a little meeting at the school today; when I get back, we'll celebrate your birthday however you want." Leakee shrugged and gave a kiss to the corner of Moxley's mouth, humming softly. 

"Oh really? So, we can fuck all day?" Mox asks, grinning slowly. 

"Your day, babe."

*

Mox finds himself in Regal's office, a room of tension and the aurora burning. The older man is sitting at his desk, hands pressed together and steeped against his face, elbows propped on the smooth surface. Leakee had went to that little meeting, Mox was more focused on how he was going to have his way with the bigger man later.

"You want to leave?" Regal asks, slow and quiet. Pale blues boring themselves into Mox's own.

Moxley nods his head, biting the inside of his cheek and fingers doing that weird tap-tap-tap on his collarbone that's been wrecked a little more than his own liking. It's tweaked a little, on the coldest of days; Mox finds his right shoulder aching from being dislocated more times than he can count.

"Think it's time I go, y'know? I--I, ah, I don't wanna screw this up with 'im...he's good, man. He cares--about me; I like that..."

And Regal, Regal that bastard fucking  _laughs._ It's cold, it's nasty, it's bitter. That anger that has been cooled and settled--sleeping like a dragon, has finally awoken. It rises and rises, up to his chest and  _burns;_ his neck is hot, his face is hot.

This ache, throbbing and mixing with something hot and cold. He's being laughed at, and Mox just doesn't know what to do--maybe, or maybe not...he expected this type of behavior from Regal.

"My goodness, you are a stupid boy. Jonathan do you think you actually  _love him_? Is it the wonderful sex, hm? How many times do I have to tell you that you're going to be the reason of killing him, Jonathan?" Regal shakes his head, giving a nasty grunt of a laugh. "You're going to poison him!"

Mox grabs a chair and tosses it, wide eyes wild and breathing a little heavy now. His hands shake.

"No! No, I am  _not_! I'm goin' to be better, Regal. I'm gonna take this second chance, I'm so fuckin' tired of this bullshit from you!" Mox is screaming, his throat is starting to hurt, he feels that large knot again. "It's not gonna be like Tyler, that's done. For so fuckin' long I've dealt with this shit from you--why, why couldn't you just leave me, huh? Why did you keep helpin' me?!"

"Because I wanted what was best for you!" Regal shouts back, standing and slamming a hand down on the surface as Mox flinches. "I took you in, boy. I tried keeping you away from the misery and the pain in life, and you...you decided drugs and death seemed better for you."

He's seething again, he wants to tear his hair out and scream so loud till his throat is raw and he can't do anything. He feels empty now, that maybe Regal is right. Mox doesn't want to put pain on Leakee, he doesn't want to put pain on anyone else--

"You're never going to be good for anyone, Jonathan. I'm so sorry," breathes Regal. "You're filled with hate and anger, pain and misery. You think he's going to stay around? He's not--the doors will always be open for you, my boy. May you have a good one, I hope to the bloody god up above that you don't put him in a path like you did to that poor boy Tyler."

And Mox has never been so torn up till now. 

* * *

Hot water is filled in the tub, some of it sloshed out and splashes the tile. Doesn't really matter, it's not his biggest concern really. 

There's a syringe, full and ready. It sits there on the small space where the soap should be; he has thrown the block of soap where's it laying now with suds near the toilet.

Speedball. 

He's sitting there with his clothes all on--he's soaked, eyes so red and puffy. It's quiet in the apartment, glad Leakee isn't home yet. Everything feels raw, he hurts in places he thought he's lost feeling in; the shoe box that Regal gave him before he left sits on the bed, open with wads of cash Regal kept saved for him from all his fights and whore nights.

On the floor is the picture of him and Tyler, young and innocent with the words scrawled behind in Tyler's handwriting,  _Together forever._ It's ripped now, smiling faces cut and frayed. Mox doesn't want that memory anymore. 

"You really hurt me today," he starts, staring at the water and how pale his hands are, knees knocked on either side of him. "I thought about it long and hard, and you're right. I'm never goin' to be good enough. I should have seen all of it comin' my way, y'know? I wanted to try so hard, wanted to make a difference in someone's life..."

He's trembling again, gasping for breath as that gurtal of a cry comes out again. He's sobbing in nasty fits, snot dribbles down past his lips; a thin line from chin to water. Mox wants it to all stop--he wants to be happy and not feel this miery anymore, he wants Leakee to hold him.

Mox never needed anyone, he always held himself up. Never had the love of a mother or father, so why return those feelings to someone? It ended in death and pain. He never needed an anchor, he didn't need to depend on someone. So why does he need Leakee so much? Why, why, why?

_I don't want to see you down, I don't want to see you frown._

"I thought I had everythin', I thought I was gonna change my ways and I thought I could..." he continues, "Regal is right, an' you probably agree. I let ya down, I let Regal down, an' now I'm lettin' Leakee down with this little piece I have waitin' for me."

His fingers tremble when he slowly takes the Speedball and stares at it silently. If he takes it in one hit and not pussy out, he'll be sure to OD; he's done it twice, three time's a charm and Mox smiles bitterly at the syringe through dried tears and snot.

The tracks on the inside of his arms and fingers are old, but he knows his tricks better than anyone who's taken hit after hit with him on those cloudy days. And Regal is right again; he'll be meeting his mother sooner rather than later, he'll meet Tyler too. 

_Happy birthday to me._

Doesn't need a restraint on his arm, he's done this game enough times. There's this gut wrenching noise that escapes his lips as his hand trembles while holding the syringe, the needle point mere inches from his scarred skin; he's sobbing again. He feels disgusting and pathetic. 

"I never had a heart in the first place, but you broke it...Regal broke it..." He's mumbling now, isn't sure what he's sven saying now. "Everythin' has been taken from me, I can't have anythin' good come to me. Why does Leakee want me? Leakee is too good, too pure...why me? I'm so empty, I don't have anythin' left..."

Moxley doesn't hear the door open at the entrance, doesn't acknowledge the fact that Leakee is back. Back from the meeting and looking forward to that birthday special. 

He's too busy concentrating on the Speedball, ready to poke his skin and fill him up with the desire he's been wanting, or that's what he thinks...he's so fucked in his mind to even know what he actually wants.

Mox barely gets enough of the shit in him, rushing through his veins; but he doesn't see or hear Leakee. Leakee, sweet and beautiful Leakee, scrambling to comprehend what the fuck is even going on. He's not yelling, he's not shouting at Mox on what the hell he's gotten himself into. No, Leakee is in the tub with him in a rush of limbs and water overflowing the tub, more splashing--

"The  _hell,_ Jon." Leakee's voice quakes, shaky and scared. But it's calm, well, maybe for Mox. He's being held from behind, and Leakee is wet too. Mox wants to tell him he's going to ruin his good clothes; he's so slumped against Leakee, all lucid and body heavy now. His heart is slow, the walls are dripping--he thinks he sees Tyler.

"Jon? Hey, look...Jon, please, don't--please don't..." Leakee isn't sure what's he's pleading for.  _Please don't leave me._ But he doesn't want this, he doesn't want this feeling of betrayal from Moxley. "Baby, you with me? C'mon Jon..."

Mox hears Leakee, like a lullaby and it's so nice. He smiles a little, sighs. He buries his face slowly into the crook of Leakee's neck; he doesn't feel the hype of a overdose coming, his heart is still functioning, it's slow--but still beating. He's just in a very lazy high of colors and slow breathing.

"Didn't take enough." Mox holds up the syringe to show Leakee, large warm arms holding him oh so close. "Took enough to stay high for awhile...wasn't what I wanted, but, ahh--you're here."

Leakee's heart is racing too fast, he can hear the thunder of it against his chest and in his ears. It's like he's the one about to overdose. He's trembling himself, his hands shake against Mox's arms. And he sorta let's out this cry against Mox's hair, lips pressed at the top of his head while Mox is slumped heavily against his chest.

"Hey," Mox says softly, like a whisper. He feels numb, there's no pain in his head, no storm in his mind, and no aching in his chest. "Tell me how ya got that scar, never knew you had it...s'pretty big." 

It's the scar on Leakee's arm that has his half-finished tattoo, looking like a upside down hook. It's nasty and shiny, it's more lighter than his tan skin.

"It's a cover up--thought she meant the world to me, so I broke this beer bottle one night drinking with friends and decided to scratch out her name." Leakee grunts, shaking his head at the memory. 

But Mox laughs softly against Leakee and curls himself more in. The drug is still working its way, he's still dopey and relaxed; and he feels fine here with Leakee. 

"You scared me, Jon."

Moxley mumbles an apology, a shuddering breath comes out. The water is starting to turn cold, but he doesn't want to leave; doesn't think he can move anyways. Leakee is holding him from behind, kissing the back of head softly and giving gentle squeezes. Everything seems to settle for Mox, and he realizes he doesn't want to leave Leakee... 

Eventually they manage to dry up, the high has slowly faded. Mox still feels a little sluggish, but they're curled on the bed in warm clothes and Mox feels safe again, he feels this blooming warmness in his chest. He's this vulnerable person in these large arms, he's this mess who probably won't ever be okay. It's this modern fairytale that Mox has accepted; that maybe, eventually, they'll be okay.  _He'll_ be okay. 

Leakee pulls him a little closer and kisses Mox's forehead quietly.  _I love you._

Because maybe, just maybe, he's finally found his home sweet home.


	20. (the epilogue) mox's modern fairytale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here ya'll go.  
> Thank you, thank you, thank you to the ones who stuck with me on this story. Holy hell.  
> Thank you so much for the positivity, gah.  
> Means so much to me.  
> I'm so glad you guys have enjoyed this; I had fun writing this for ya'll.  
> Here's the modern fairytale~
> 
> Thank you again. ♡ much love, and a (late) Christmas.

* * *

_i know i've lost my mind before,_

_but i'm back and better than ever._

* * *

"Think you had enough, don't ya think?"

He rolls his eyes, mouth too full to even form words. Plate stacked full in one hand--junk food and small cheese cubes, grapes and strawberries on the side, nibbled on carrots. In the other hand, he holds a beer; warm and half full. It's the second time he gets to enjoy this delicious food, getting to eat as much as he wants. And he knows, God he knows, his stomach will be hurting later.

"'M never gon' have 'nough," Mox mumbles out around the food, grinning slowly and chewing loudly.

Leakee raises his eyebrows and smirks. He's sorta disgusted by Mox's table manners with the food and how he's talking with a mouth full, but he's also awed by how beautiful and just...happy the way Mox is at the moment.

"I don't wanna hear you bitchin' in the middle of the night, be waking me up because your stomach is hurting."

Mox shrugs and walks his happy ass around the table, looking to pick around; adding more food on his plate that he had forgotten on his first round. He's stuffing his mouth again, he's laughing loudly with Leakee's family--he's playing these kid games with the children.

It's been a year.

A year ago, Leakee was sitting in the bath tub filled with water with a Speedball, holding Moxley. 

A year ago, Leakee had decided after Mox's little incident he wanted to move.

Leakee still believes moving back home has made Mox in a more relaxed and happier state; he wanted the younger man to come along, he has seen Mox in a way he's never seen him before--no more cage fights, no more hands touching him every night with faces he won't ever remember. 

He knows he promised himself to never return. But having heard Mox face his own demons and managing to break that hold, Leakee decided the same. He decided to face the demon of his past who drove him away from home--a women of red hair, wild and never loved him, but still managed to try and tear him and Mox apart.

But here he is, back home with Moxley. 

Happy, calm. Relaxed and feeling okay.

It took awhile for Mox to get comfortable in a new surrounding; but fucking hell was he welcomed more than ever with--literal--open arms from Leakee's own family. 

It's Christmas. A year ago they had their own shitty Christmas of drunk sex and didn't get the spirit to celebrate in the tradition others usually did.

And now, well...now Leakee has been watching Mox enjoy food and others around him. He's noticed Moxley stiffens at the manner of hugs from this family, tenses when he's patted on the back. It'd all take time, though and Leakee knows that for sure.

Leakee has gone back to teaching at the high school he graduated from. It's weird to be back, but it feels okay. Mox has found a job at the bar downtown that has this little warm welcome of cigarette smoke and strong liquor; being a bartender and coming back with stories of wild nights to Leakee. Eyes always bright now, wide smiles and toothy grins with hands moving about with every story telling he has for every different night.

He's just glad that Mox can finally breathe. 

Regal hasn't even made an attempt to get ahold of Mox, and that just seems better. Mox hardly uses the money he still has saved up in that shoe box under their shared bed, Leakee doesn't make a comment about it. Let's the younger do his own thing. 

He makes his way to Mox who is trying to tell one of his bar stories to one of Leakee's twin cousins; mumbling with food in his mouth and moving the hand with the beer this way and that. Leakee smirks and plants a kiss on the crown of Moxley's head.

"Chew your food and swallow," Leakee mutters.

"S'not the first time ya told me to swallow," bites back Mox, snickering. Leakee feels his face get a little warm, and he rolls his eyes and leaves the blond back to telling his story.

Yeah, he guesses, we're going to be alright. 

* * *

His hips rock slowly on the bigger man below him, thighs and sweaty hips slide against one another. His hair is plastered to his face and neck, his chest is just as glistening at the effort he's putting in and the way everything is just feeling so goddamn good. 

Let's his head fall back and moans, blunt nails scratching and digging their way into Leakee's smooth chest. There's large hands on his small hips, squeezing hard and guiding him back and forth. It's beautiful, really, how he moves to the rythm of Leakee's. Rocking slowly and then speeding up. Taking their time.

Moxley looks down and slowly slides his hand up to Leakee's throat and gently closes his fingers around--gives a nice squeeze in the right angle; watches how Leakee's breath hitches, how his own hand closes around Mox's wrist. He licks his chapped lips, enjoying the way Leakee watches him with wide brown eyes.

He feels better, Moxley realizes. The old memories of pain and suffering has slowly been lifting away from Mox, he doesn't have that little voice telling him shit; he doesn't feel angry as much as he used to. He doesn't think about Regal, he doesn't think of Tyler alot. Isn't sure if that's a good thing or bad, forgetting his first love.

A year ago Mox wanted to end everything, he wanted to end the guilt he had in his head all the time. He wanted to end the monster Regal had created, a thing of self-destruction and just nasty things he wanted to do. Things that he doesn't ever want to live through again. He's done with Jimmy, and he knows he'll never see that bastard ever again.

A year ago, Mox didn't think he'd be here.

He didn't think he'd be alive this long--alive to enjoy Leakee's family again, be welcomed and loved like a family he should have gotten a long time ago. He didn't think Leakee would be dealing with him, tolerating his filthy mouth and the never ending of not shutting up now. Mox never thought he'd have someone again, someone who's gentle and patient with him.

Mox shudders at the hard shove Leakee gives with his hips, hearing the thud of skin on skin. He groans low, squeezes at Leakee's throat again and grins darkly. Loves this, loves that he can just let go for a bit with the one who he's trusted for so long.

They're getting close, and Leakee holds Mox's hips as he finishes himself off--getting sloppy and filthy towards the end, sitting up a little to watch Mox ride himself out. And after they come, stomachs stained and come mixing with sweat; they're breathing heavy, panting.

Foreheads pressed together, Mox's hand goes slack around Leakee's throat and has it rest on Leakee's beating heart that's just thuddering away at the moment.

* * *

 The room is filled with their heavy breathing; outside fireworks blast out, bursting the sky of rich colors.

There's nothing to be said at the moment, really, no words can be formed on their after sex-glow. It's just this soul bonding thing of holding one another and staring at each other, like their hearts have merged as one and their hands hold together--everything feels right.

Mox eventually breaks the comfortable and gentle silence.

"I once told Tyler I'd marry 'im one day," he whispers, the tip of his pinky tracing the designs of Leakee's sleeve tattoo that is now fully complete and just breath-taking, "but that day never came."

He manages to lean over the bed and reach for the shoe box of money, being held by Leakee and still straddling his thighs. Mox grunts and holds the box between them, opening it to reveal the neat wads of cash and a small paper bag.

Leakee is looking at him with this weird expression. And he's sorta nervous now; licking his lips over and over again, face heating up a little.

"Never got the chance to ask 'im. Was gonna just steal a ring, maybe get a plastic one from the vending machine, ya know? But, uh, now that I--that I have the money...was kinda wonderin' if ya wanted to put up with my ass a little longer?"

And Leakee, lovely and pure Leakee, is staring at him with wide eyes and with an open mouth; awestruck.

Moxley is feeling a little panicked now--how the silence keeps stretching out and Leakee is just staring at the small paper bag Mox is holding.

"Is that a no...? It's cool, if ya don't want this--I understand."

Leakee snaps out of his trance and shakes his head, giving a little laugh and sighs, grabbing the small paper bag and looks in it. It's nothing big, nothing too simple either. But it's the thought that counts for Moxley, Leakee guesses.

"I'll put up with you some more," Leakee answers, smiling up at Mox. And the blond grins wide, laughs and kisses the bigger man all sloppy.

He's more than okay now, Moxley knows that. It wasn't an overnight thing; but here he was, happy and feeling loved more than anything with this wonderful man.

"Merry Christmas, Jon."

" _Love you too, Lea_."


End file.
